


Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Fiction, Humor, M/M, Relationship(s), Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-11
Updated: 2008-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2

## Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2

### by Flutesong

##### [Story Headers]

  


Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2 

Author: Flutesong 

E-mail: 

Website: http://www.hegalplace.com/Flutesong/ 

Keywords: M/K Slash - Scully - Skinner - Gunmen -Gibson and Joey 

Spoilers: Mulder's stay on the (Requiem) ship was shorter - we have canon hints all throughout - After the garage, but not season 8 or 9 - no long Mulder absence, no elephant length Scully pregnancy, no dead Gunmen, only hints of super soldiers, show started in '93 and this is 2003 

Rating: Adults Only 

Summary: Everything, some humor, and maybe the kitchen sink, adults only 

Warning: Adult Themes /Slash /Language and Mytharc plot and more plot 

Notes: I had no intention of carrying on with this story, but the place where Mulder and Krycek ended in Book 1, was not really enough of an ending. So, here's the rest. 

Notes: All poems and lyrics accredited - My previous story Street Corner Santa has been up at The Basement complete, in case anyone was waiting for the whole thing. 

April/May/June 2008 

Let Them Have It As They Will Book 2 

Chapter 1 

They open a shop. 

Police centre in holes. 

I can see the crop. 

Action of our souls. 

Rejected from school, 

waiting in line. 

These dates are cool, 

handing me the fine. 

Little do they realize, what it is we're up to. 

Chemical reaction in your eyes, 

what a lovely thing to do. 

Lovely thing to do.   
By Peter Owynne Timusk. 

Alex Krycek, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, with the rest of the team behind them waiting for the All Clear, approached the entrance to the lab. The Justice Committee guards were fast asleep having innocently drunk the coffee Scully brought for them. Joey and Gibson groaned at the same moment and all activity halted. 

Joey and Gibson did a strange thing, but no one interfered. They took out Gibson's hand held game, turned the volume as loud as it would go and started to play it, beginning to argue loudly over whose turn it was and how they knew what to do to win. Mulder and Krycek eyes met and they nodded at Skinner. The message was received as the argument about the game went on behind them; the men continued into the lab and carefully opened the door to the stairwell. The boys had described the facility to them, step by step. They were to go done three levels using the stairs and then take the elevator at the north end of the floor. It would take them down to the seventh sub-floor. There they would exit the elevator, find the air ducts at the south end of the floor and pour the New Mexico sand and rocks down the widest vent. The hybrids were not using the air duct fan, because it would have given away their location. The sand and rocks would go down to the eighth sub-floor, where the hybrids were camped, and infiltrate them immediately. Joey and Gibson would let everyone know when the last hybrid disintegrated. 

The journey was made in silence and the men found the right floor and the right ducts and dispersed the rocks and sand without interference. They turned back as soon as they were done, but they could hear very loud pinging sounds and crashes as they quickly made their way back to the elevator and up the stairs. 

The Gunmen and Scully were waiting, on alert; they were the backup plan if the men had not returned within twenty minutes. They had a portion of the sand and rocks too. The boys were still playing the game, but when the men returned, the other adults let out a sigh of relief and backed up, chivvying the boys ahead of them back towards the SUVs. 

When they reached the vehicles, Joey and Gibson suddenly shut up. "They're gone," Gibson croaked. 

"All gone," Joey added. 

Mulder stopped moving. He looked up into the night, "Are there any more left anywhere?" 

Gibson and Joey went to Mulder, Joey said. "These were the leftovers, the unwanted and imperfect and they are all gone. Before the invasion failed, the aliens gathered them all together here. They made sure all of them collected here. If the aliens could feel spite, leaving them to infiltrate the human public after they were gone, this was it." Gibson paused, "I won't swear it is so, justthat I think so and feel so." 

"The aliens had no sense of humor or irony, Mulder." Gibson chimed in. "This was their last backup plan. It was logical, humans had ruined their genome and they were repaying the favor. That's all." 

Mulder started to laugh, "That's all?" He said and laughed harder. "That's all? They had earth in the palms of their hands and this is what's left? Tell me," He demanded of the boys, "Have they turned into grey goop or green goop?" Krycek walked up to Mulder and grabbed his arm, "They're gone. It doesn't matter what kind of residue they became. They're gone, Mulder, it is over." 

But, Mulder continued to laugh and soon it turned into choked laughter and then, wet sobbing laughter and from that, into full blown sobs. The Gunmen got the boys into a vehicle, Skinner and Scully looked away, but Alex held onto Mulder and sank with Mulder to the ground when Mulder's knees gave out. "Really over?" Mulder questioned like a child, hiccupping softly from his outburst. 

"Dead as doornails," Krycek said blandly. 

Mulder took a deep breath, "Why is that a saying? It makes no sense, doornails never had a life to leave and become dead." 

Krycek smiled, "Neither did they," He said. "Everything they had was stolen or programmed or made of plastic. Now, they've melted away and they are gone." 

Mulder sat on his butt, leaned back on his arms and said, "Good." 

Krycek leaned into Mulder and said in a whisper, "Good riddance." 

"Good God Almighty?" Mulder added. 

"Goodness gracious?" Krycek quipped and helped Mulder up. 

"Good Night Marie?" Mulder said over his shoulder as he walked to the waiting SUV. 

"Good Night Ladies." Krycek added. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Mulder had the final word, "This concludes our program." station." 

"You're hysterical," Scully said, but it was said gently and she smiled. 

"Oh, hell yes," Said Mulder and got into his seat. 

"Hell yes," Skinner said, adding his two cent's worth "God Bless America." 

"Enough already," Gibson called out. "Let's go get something to eat." 

Chapter 2 

your hand on the knob, 

the latch clicking open, 

then darkness rushing out 

and taking you in, 

and everything returning 

easily to itself again 

as if your passing through 

were only rumor, or recollection, 

as if you had arrived a long time ago. 

At The End of The Day 

By Gregory Djanikian 

The ride back to the motel was celebratory. Mulder was in a strange place between being overjoyed and having second thoughts. God, he would've liked to inform the world that aliens existed. He sighed and Krycek took his hand, "I can live with it," Mulder said and strangely thought Krycek would understand. 

"Live, being the key word." Krycek replied. 

Mulder laughed, "Live, yes, that's the operative word for sure." 

Mulder sobered and asked Krycek a question that had been on his mind since the start of the trip back in DC, "Alex, why were you living like a bum when you had that money in your mail-locker?" 

Krycek sighed and smiled grimly, "Believe it or not, I have a will filed with DC courts. Before my body would have been released for burial, the fact of the will would have come out. The will is available at the court with instructions that included a list of names of who could get a copy. It was simple, all of my assets could be found in that locker. I thought that it would Marita , but hoped it would be my friend Laura from back when I was in the academy. I keep in touch with her through the personals in the Washington Post, just often enough to let her know I was alive somewhere. Laura would need the cash to go to the banks in Europe to open the safety deposit boxes. The diamonds are a kind of joke actually, she never believed what I said about what I was and what I did." Krycek shrugged. "She was my landlady and adopted me like a son and refused to believe anything bad about me, even if I said it about myself. I liked having someone in the world who felt that way about me. I told her I would give her a handful of uncut diamonds someday to prove I worked on the dark side, just like in the spy novels she loves" 

"You were taking a big chance that Spender or one of them would have found the will." Mulder said. 

Krycek smiled again, "Well, I updated the will after they were all gone. But," He said as he turned to look at Mulder, "Your name was on the list. I figured you would snoop through all my assets, but were too honest not to give it to Laura." 

"I hear you, but I don't understand why you didn't use a little bit, you were starving Alex." Mulder said. 

"Come on Mulder, I wanted to leave `something' behind besides a legacy of dirty deeds and shame. I wanted someone to remember me without cursing my name. That was more important that dying on a park bench." 

Mulder let out a long sigh, "What now?" He asked. 

Krycek laughed and once again, Mulder heard a young man, a free man, in the laugh. "I can actually visit her now and give them to her. I can actually use the damn keys myself. Someone put the kibosh on my ability to get to my funds without being noticed, it's why I was in such bad straights. I couldn't get a job, Spender had seen to that." 

"Ahem," Mulder said. "I wasn't convinced you were dead after the garage. I ummm, I notified the international bankers." 

Krycek laughed some more, "Of course you did, of course. How could it be otherwise?" 

Mulder smiled, "Does this mean we can share expenses?" 

Krycek smiled, "Actually Mulder, I can support you in any manner you ever dreamed of; I am very, very rich now that I can get to my money." 

Mulder put his head back on the seat, "Blood money, no doubt, but so is the money from my parents so I suppose I can't complain." 

"Our revenge," Krycek said with conviction, "Is to live long and happy lives and the hell with them." 

From the driver's seat Skinner spoke up, "Do tell me Krycek, just how you intend to live with Mulder or anyone else for that matter, let's say for the next twenty-five years or so?" 

"Skinner," Mulder said sharply. 

"Mulder!" Scully snapped. "Are you out of your mind? You `know' what Krycek is." 

"Er..." Krycek cleared his throat, "I don't think I will put away Skinner, even if it's your dearest wish to see me incarcerated or dead." He looked at Mulder, "I wasn't entirely absent from the Justice Committee investigation." He said modestly and looked down. 

Mulder started to laugh, saw the veins pulsing in Skinner's head and turned it into a cough. 

"Not that it will surprise you, Skinner. But, the Smoker had many more bureaucrats on the hot seat than you; one could say he was universally detested. The Justice Committee maybe Johnny-Come-Lately, but they intended to be thorough; I supplied some of the ammunition for them to be thorough. I know you're on the Committee and that many of them owe you favors, but you don't actually have a vote and more of them owe me favors than they do you." Skinner's response was to grip the steering wheel tighter. 

"He'll betray you again," Scully hissed and crossed her arms in front of her, "and his money is covered in blood, some of it very fresh, some of it mine and your father's, or had you forgotten?" 

"Can't we be happy for a few minutes?" Mulder said harshly. "We have saved the whole goddamn world tonight and we're being petty? I'll worry about what Krycek will do in the future; tonight he is a hero, just like all of us." 

Silently, Krycek grinned and patted himself on the shoulder. Mulder sighed loudly, but the disapproval from the front seat was silent. 

"You know what?" Mulder said brightly after a short silence. "Gibson was right, I'm starving, let's go eat!" 

They followed the Gunmen, who stopped at an all night diner on the same road as the airport in Bennington, Vermont was located. Other than a couple of idling semi-trailers, the place was deserted. They piled into the diner and took the tables in the center of the room. Skinner and Scully made a point of not sitting at the one where Mulder and Krycek had sat down. Joey and Gibson and Langly joined Mulder. But, Byers and Frohike joined Skinner's table. Mulder shrugged it off, but Krycek frowned. 

The lone waitress, fiftyish and reed-thin with red lipstick and a red apron came over to them, passing out menus. "How many coffees?" She asked abruptly, as if they had interrupted her break time and they were a nuisance. 

Joey and Gibson asked for large milkshakes, but everyone else raised a hand for coffees. They ordered lavishly for that time of night: steak and eggs, meat loaf and gravy, double stacks of pancakes and all the pieces of pie in the cases. 

They sat in the restaurant for over an hour, drinking coffee refills and congratulating themselves a few more times, until Skinner announced, "The next flight to DC is in less than an hour, we should go." 

Everyone rose and trouped back to the SUVs. Whatever else Skinner wanted or wished, he bought a ticket for Krycek as well as everyone else. 

On the plane, aiming for peaceful coexistence, Mulder and Krycek sat at the rear of the small plane. Other than two businessmen and a woman who looked like she was returning to DC after a very relaxing spring trip to Vermont, there was no one beside Skinner's group on the plane. 

Mulder relaxed, remembered the trip back from Hong Kong and reached for Krycek's hand. After a while he said, "Live well and be happy, is that what you said?" 

Alex squeezed his hand. "Yeah, that's what I said." 

Mulder turned to Krycek, "You are the most provocative, cockiest son of a bitch I have ever met. You thrive on winding up people, being a smartass and hiding in dark corners in your damn black leather jacket and shit-kicker boots. You ooze trouble, Krycek. Do you even know how to live happily?" 

Krycek stared at Mulder and smiled the smile he knew made Mulder nuts, "Do you, Spooky Mulder? Do you know how to live happily?" 

Mulder frowned, "I piss people off because I'm right. You piss people off because..." 

"Because I'm right," Krycek inserted. "I can't help how I look, Mulder. Maybe now that there is peace and I am prosperous and potentially happy, I'll get fat or grow my hair to my shoulders and look different. I would offer to go back to wearing suits, but I hate wearing a fucking collar and tie, so I won't." 

"Mulder folded his arms over his chest, "You swagger, Alex. You swagger in tight black jeans and look dangerous. Women eye you and blink their eyelashes and men want to stick a knife in your back on principal." 

"And you pout," Krycek ginned, beginning to enjoy himself. "You pout with your pouty lips and look like a wounded puppy that someone kicked out into the cold." He smiled his most dangerous, provocative smile and said, "I wouldn't worry about the women who bat their eyelashes at me Mulder, although you can worry about the guys that do, if you want to worry that is." 

Mulder looked affronted and Krycek laughed, he could get used to being happy with Mulder, he was sure of it and Mulder could get used to being happy with him too. They just had to learn to lighten up and not take themselves so seriously. "We've spent our entire youth in dire straights, Mulder. Maybe we both have a lot to learn about just living." 

Mulder looked like he wanted to argue, but Gibson turned around and said, "Do either of you know when to shut up? I want a flight back to Arizona in the morning. I want to go out in the desert far, far away from everyone and listen to the quiet. Joey may come to visit; the two of you can write me letters and wait for an invitation." He turned back and rubbed his head, sending his hair all over and looking like a duck with ruffled feathers when he was done. 

Joey leaned past Gibson and looked back; he grinned, gave his brother a thumb's up and winked at Mulder. "You can come to my place anytime," He said. And then he said, "Ouch," because Gibson slugged him in the arm. 

Mulder looked at Krycek and Krycek looked back. "Children," they said in unison and laughed when Gibson began to rub his head again. 

Chapter 3 

'O stand, stand at the window 

As the tears scald and start; 

You shall love your crooked neighbor 

With your crooked heart.' 

It was late, late in the evening, 

The lovers they were gone; 

The clocks had ceased their chiming, 

And the deep river ran on. 

As I Walked Out One Evening 

By WH Auden 

The Justice Committee was officially enraged, which meant a great many hearings, elocutions and depositions. Skinner insisted that Joey and Gibson go through the process first so they could go back to their lives. They stayed at Mulder's apartment in Will's room and the baby was thrilled to have company; sitting in front of the TV and blocking the view until someone would pick him up and let him sit on their lap. Mulder and Krycek found the three younger people were often very quiet when they were together. 

One night, when Mulder came home from the hearings before Krycek, he chanced upon the three watching TV with the sound off. He looked at them for a moment and then he had a searing pain in his forehead and dozens of images went through his mind as clear as day, but too quickly to become informed. The three turned as one and stared at him, Gibson had a small smile on his face. Mulder took deep breaths and the images slowed down and he realized he was looking at Joey, Gibson and himself from someone else's the point-of-view. Will, he was in Will's cerebral cortex. It was interesting and warm; he felt no sense of intruding on Will, just openness. He saw Gibson's smile bloom and the images became colorful, and he could see green, the green of Joey's T-shirt and the green of the leafy plants in his living room. He could see red too. And he had never understood red before. Will got up and took his hand and led him to his big box of crayons, took the box and spilt it on the floor. Will laughed when Mulder picked up the fire engine red crayon and stared at it. Mulder felt the laughter as if it were his own, and maybe it was his own, the merging, the mind meld was not defined by him and Will as separate. They were there together and it was intimate, but not threatening even when the minds were almost forty years apart. 

He and will began to sort the crayons by color category: reds, blues, greens, browns. Soon there were other opinions in his head, Joey, who saw everything just a little darker than Mulder or Will and Gibson, who saw everything a little brighter and almost shiny. 

Mulder wondered why he didn't feel the need to fight off the mind sharing, but he didn't. Instinctively, he understood no one would take advantage and look into private things or deliberately induce private issues and break the bond of trust. Mulder closed his eyes and lay back on the rug; he reached out for his son and brought Will up and over him, until the child was sitting on his chest. Mulder felt as if there were no separation of flesh between them. He felt the baby's soft breaths and heartbeat alongside his own and it was beautiful. Joey and Gibson left the room and the apartment, but Mulder didn't notice. He was communing with his child, his flesh, blood and bone. He felt as if they were in their own private river, swimming with the strong current to a warm sea. He wondered if this was what it was like to be pregnant and connected to the child in one's womb. 

In is mind, Mulder saw images that were not his own. He saw the dog from the apartment three doors down from beneath its belly. That's how Will saw the dog, from a view equal to the height of the dog. He saw himself as a giant and the legs and shoes of many others. He smelled the powdery stuff the maid used on the carpets when she vacuumed the floor; saw how high a climb it was to get on the toilet. He saw the carefully cut food, laid out in bits and pieces in a colorful arrangement on the highchair tray and felt how much Will liked the small pieces of carrot and hated the bright green peas. He laughed with his son when he thought about how much he hated peas too. 

Gradually, the colors dimmed and the heartbeat slowed and he realized Will was asleep. He let out a long breath, it had been profound. He didn't fully understand what had happened. He and Gibson had said the same things at the same moment when he had spent time with the young man out in Arizona, but it hadn't been anywhere near this level of intimacy. 

Mulder relaxed on the floor, the warm, heavy weight of the sleeping child on his chest. For the first time in his life, since that evening in November 1973, Fox Mulder had something to thank the aliens for. They had given him and Will and Joey and Gibson this powerful gift, and while he could see how different it made all of them from everyone else, it was, nonetheless, extraordinarily beautiful. 

He closed his eyes and felt happy, just happy, and simply happy. 

Behind his lids, he saw Alex Krycek as he had first seen him. Unknowing until this moment, that he had actually seen Krycek before that day in the bullpen at the FBI office. He saw Krycek running in a pair of FBI Issue shorts and T-shirt on the obstacle course at Quantico. He remembered the whole thing; he'd been waiting for Scully to finish an autopsy. Not one of the X Files autopsies, but one for another FBI case. Tired of being inside on a beautiful day and irritated by the way Scully kept throwing panicked glances his way that told him to stay quiet and keep out of the case she was helping on; he'd gone outdoors, walked to the obstacle course to watch the new recruits go through their paces. 

Krycek had been ahead of the pack of other recruits who followed. He was grinning like a wolf, sweating and panting and Mulder had felt an immediate affinity for the young man. Yes, he remembered thinking, how great it is to be ahead of the pack and just then, Krycek had looked up from the track and met his eyes. Krycek's grin had broadened and Mulder had grinned back in perfect understanding. And then, Krycek had passed him and went on down the track. 

Slowly, the perfect understanding began to change and he was seeing himself from Krycek's eyes. He saw himself as he was then; lean, young and with sunlight in his hair, his face a study in brown and gold. He felt Krycek's quick stab of desire along with the adrenalin of the race. He felt Krycek's burst of joy when they grinned at each other and Krycek's brief moment of regret that he could not stop and meet him and sensed when he was forgotten and when winning the race became Krycek's single focus once more. 

Slowly, without any jarring act, Krycek lifted Will from Mulder's chest and laid him down in his bed in the next room. Quietly, he closed the door and came back, kneeling by Mulder's prone body. He looked serious and almost sad, but he ran his hands down Mulder's body and once more, Mulder saw himself through Krycek's eyes. He was beautiful in that POV, all his features slightly idealized. He felt the passion begin to burn when he saw himself as Krycek saw him, undid his pants and pulled them down to his hips. Until now, Krycek had been the one to teach Mulder the art of fucking a man, but Mulder could feel that was about to change and yet, seeing how adored he was in Krycek's vision of him, he had no fear or repugnance. 

The outpouring of Krycek's personality was stronger than the younger men or Will. He could actually feel Krycek's arousal and it fueled his own arousal and it went back and forth until he was dizzy and he surrendered. Krycek began to murmur endearments and encouragement; in Mulder's head it had a sing-song quality; low, and melodic. Krycek undressed and Mulder felt everything spike again to even a higher level. He wondered if Krycek could see himself through Mulder's eyes and Krycek smiled and Mulder knew he did. Mulder spared a thought to the both the narcissism and the generosity in their interaction, before he was swept by shudders of pleasure while Krycek prepared him. Almost ritualistically, Krycek played with him, showed Mulder his the pleasure points, the places where an inch from pain was exquisite and where he melted, and Mulder never thought he could melt that way and need to be taken, need to be consumed and penetrated and owned. 

Krycek was long and blunt and very, very hot when he pushed inside Mulder's body and Mulder felt the slide and the stretch as if he were the one on top. A quirky thought went through his mind at how bizarre it was to be happy he was so tight that Krycek was about to come on the first stroke. After that, Mulder knew what to do. Krycek had told him every time they had made love the other way and Mulder knew how that felt. So, he tightened his ass and clamped down on Krycek's cock and released him for another surge. Since it all happened in slow motion in Mulder's brain, the real time factor had no meaning; the shortness of the actual act from penetration to orgasm was quick and that didn't matter at all. Nevertheless, it was the most important, most pleasurable and fabulous sex in Mulder's life and he felt tears well in his eyes as Krycek pulled out and laid down beside him, his good arm matching him from shoulder to finger tips. 

Their minds separated a few moments after the sex ended, but it was done gently and painlessly. 

"Alex," Mulder said softly. 

Krycek turned to him and Mulder saw he wasn't the only one with tears in his eyes. 

"What?" Mulder asked. 

"I have to leave for a while," Krycek said slowly. "It turns out that Skinner's wrath does have more weight than I originally thought. Oh, I'll get my pardon, they owe it to me from the work I did for them before now. But, I have to disappear until they pacify Skinner and his coterie of other suits with other things." He closed his eyes and sighed. "It seems that the false criminal record Spender fed to the powers that be before the whole thing fell apart is incontrovertible. Strange how many fake things become more real than the facts. Skinner doesn't care what crimes I am charged with as long as I end up with either the death penalty or a life sentence." Mulder sat up, "No, Mulder," Krycek went on. "Don't get angry too and forget how much Skinner has meant to you for all these years. He's not a bad man, just a very angry man and it's not like he doesn't have cause to be bitter." 

"You're preaching patience?" Mulder said unbelievably 

Krycek smiled with irony, "Yeah, I guess I am. It will end; I believe that it will end well. In the meantime, we will stay in touch and you can make plans for when we are back together. We should travel. After all, we helped save the planet; we might as well go see it." 

"Don't," Mulder said harshly. "Nothing makes this all right. How long do we have to pay for what that bastard Spender did to us? We've paid with sweat and blood and our youth. Who the hell is Skinner to make trouble now?" 

"He is trying to protect you from me, so is Scully. It's because, no matter how much they have been involved and supportive of you, and they cannot feel what we experienced when our families were ripped from us. Give them some time to adjust. Go to work, plead my case when they bother you about it, but do it kindly, Skinner is your friend and Scully is the mother of your beautiful child. They love you and you love them. Soon, they will understand that there is enough love for all of us and I will come back to you." Krycek smiled sadly, "You can't really blame them." 

Mulder rolled over on top of Krycek, straddling him he said, "I" rough kiss, "Do" rough kiss, "Blame," shake to Krycek's shoulders, "Them. I want a life now that's over and I want that life with you in it." 

Krycek rolled them over, "I want it too." He said and started the lovemaking over as if they were really young puppies, tumbling across the floor and vying for dominance. 

Chapter 4 

No, you can't always get what you want 

You can't always get what you want 

You can't always get what you want 

And if you try sometime you find 

You get what you need 

The Rolling Stones 

Joey and Gibson finished their testimony and after a large and lavish final dinner with everyone at the table, went back to their respective homes. They had made firm friends of the Gunmen and through Joey, learned that there might be more to Krycek than they had thought. Krycek was there at the table although the lines had been drawn between the friends and the enemies. Mulder was hard put to hide his resentment, but having had long practice at it, Skinner and Scully acted as if nothing was wrong and the dinner was a success. 

Krycek and Mulder, knowing that their time was running out, spoke of Krycek's departure not at all. Instead they made love constantly, trying to imprint each other for the long parting. Krycek made comments about the Swallows returning to Capistrano and Mulder talked about salmon and their trek upstream, despite the odds. 

When he finally had to leave, Krycek said, "I appreciate your metaphors, Mulder. But I would much rather return without having to die once I got here." 

Mulder smiled grimly, "No talk of dying allowed, Alex. You'll be back soon, even if I have to water-board Skinner in the third floor bathroom until he agrees." 

Krycek punched Mulder playfully, "I always knew the FBI was all talk about agreeing to follow the Geneva Convention. I glad no one is sending me to Cuba." 

"I miss you already," Mulder blurted out as Krycek picked up his suitcase. 

"Soon," Krycek said as he opened the door. 

"Soon," Mulder echoed to the empty room. 

From downstairs Krycek called Mulder on his cell phone, when Mulder answered he said, "Change the sheets, Mulder." 

"Alex," Mulder said desperately. 

"Do it." Krycek said and hung up. 

It took Mulder another week to finish his testimony and everyday he insisted on speaking to the Justice Committee after hours and off the record about Krycek's return. They got tired of it and exasperated, agreed to pressure Skinner some more. With that, Mulder had to be satisfied. He went back to the X Files and rammed protocol down his easygoing team's throat until they let Skinner know Mulder was driving them insane. Still, Skinner did not call Mulder to his office and refused to return his phone calls. 

Like it had been for the past decade, just when he actually wanted to be home, an interesting X File reared its head. As a measure of his pain, Mulder didn't inform Scully, but put together several of his team and took off, leaving Skinner to find out about it when he received the request for a traveling 302 in the morning. 

As soon as they reached the small house in the small town under the Great Sky of Wyoming, Mulder knew he'd seen this particular phenomenon before. The widow of the former sheriff was experiencing odd things every time she tried to break out of her sorrow and stop morning her husband's murder. A deputy had come over and volunteered to clean up her garage so she could park in it at night after work and not have to go through the cold 100 foot walk from the driveway to the dark, empty house in the harsh winter. She had been happy to let him do it and when he found the boxes of baby clothes she's saved since her children were young, she gave them to the deputy to take home to his pregnant wife. 

Inside the last box, which was marked Baby Clothes, was her husband's very old and collectable Lionel train set. She had forgotten and believed, after the fact, that the deputy didn't know either and wasn't stealing it. However, whatever spirit was watching her had thought so and the deputy's car had gone over three times before it stopped on a perfectly benign road with no curves or gradation or anything. The box was the only thing not mangled in the accident and was standing, perfectly innocently, in the field by the side of the road. 

It had been the last straw; she'd felt like she was under house arrest since her husband had been buried in Casper with an honor guard. She, like many who lived in sparsely populated regions and saw a lot of the night sky, had read about Agent Mulder and the X Files. She sent a long Email with pictures of the various objects that had come to grief under the presence of what she believed to be, a vengeful spirit. There were enough oddities in her report to interest Mulder's team and they had presented it to him at the weekly office report. 

The team came and, since they could not go unnoticed in such a small town, openly began asking questions about who could be an enemy of the Sheriff's wife or who was one of his old enemies, would wish to harm her. Meanwhile, Mulder and his team also set up her house and car with top of the line surveillance equipment and waited for something to happen. 

Mulder's team had read all of the X Files cases dating from before they were hired and agreed that this case struck the same chord as an old case involving a young secretary and an overprotective middle aged boss who had loved her like a daughter. The boss had been murdered because his partner wanted all the credit for some designs they had been working on. After a while, the secretary noticed that every time she was upset or frightened, some outside force came along and worked vengefully in her stead. Things she had only dreamed of or thought of in a moment of anger had happened and was escalating. Mulder's conclusion in that old report was to postulate that the spirit would follow her until she was happy and safe. Scully' report had been about strange weather patterns and the belief that is was the secretary who had committed the chaos and the crimes. Since the secretary had never called back after she moved away in the middle of the night. Neither Mulder nor Scully knew what had happened to her. 

After interviewing half the town extensively, the team drew similar conclusions to Mulder's. They waited and when the wife was shunned at the local market, they were able to record a dust storm, which happened without warning and in weather conditions that held no threat of such a storm predicted. There were strange shadows in the dust and upon closer examination, going frame by frame from the digital images; they saw a close resemblance to the dead sheriff in whorls and clouds. 

The wife, upon a recommendation from the spiritual, religious and mythological expert on the Mulder's team, went to the closest Native American Shaman and explained it to him. A long ritual cleansing ensued and Mulder's team stayed to witness it although Mulder went back to DC ahead of them. 

Back in DC, Mulder insisted on talking to Skinner. He ambushed him as he went to his car one night. Mulder was waiting in the back seat and when he revealed himself, Skinner treated him to a harangue which likened his behavior to some of Krycek's worse moments. 

Mulder listened, really listened and felt shadows and echoes of his own old anger and hate toward Krycek. "I get it, Skinner,' Mulder said tiredly. "He was a right bastard and an evil one too." Mulder sighed and Skinner sighed with him. 

"I love that man, warts and all. It's something you will have to get used to. I don't ask you to accept it or him, but we belong together now that it is over. Surely, you understand?" Mulder asked. "You've been alone a long, long time too." 

Skinner took off his glasses and polished them with his tie although the car was almost dark in the underground garage. Mulder usually avoided the place, but this was important to him, so he ignored the old ricochet of bullets and blood and had come here. 

"I always knew," Skinner said, "From the first moment when his assignment came that morning from `above'. The chain it went through was already familiar to me and I knew the Goddamn Smoking bastard was behind it. I can say now that I really thought he was just there to report on you, to steer you away from things the Smoker didn't want you to see or learn. Hell, Scully came to the X Files the same way. You knew, didn't you?" 

Mulder leaned his head back against the seat and looked out the window into the garage. His life was a series of dark garages. "Yeah, I knew. She wrote report after report about the cases, always including plausible deniability, just in case she was questioned. I knew she had been sent, but after a while, I realized she didn't know she'd been sent. So she was clean and she was such a straight arrow that I believed the Smoker and his ilk would get nothing from her reports that they didn't already know or had planted themselves." 

"I wanted to think Krycek would be the same as Scully," Skinner said. "He was what you needed, what she needed to ward off her budding romance with you and see you through another person's eyes." Skinner sighed again, it was late and he was tired and hungry, but he knew he couldn't hold off Mulder forever or his time for confessions either. "After he was gone and Scully was missing, I investigated him. I mean, I called in ten years of markers and investigated him. The Smoker couldn't control everyone I had help me." Skinner rubbed his eyes, "Do you know what I found, Mulder? I found he had a brother go missing the same night as your sister. I found that his mother was killed in a questionable car crash and his father in a questionable suicide. I found that he was at the top of his class at Quantico; he was really there, really did the work and honestly took the tests. And I learned Mulder," Skinner paused, put his glasses back on and straightened his shoulders, "I learned that a Mr. William Mulder, formerly a high ranking official with the State Department and a Mr. Spender, who had already pushed his way into my command, paid Alex Krycek a visit on the day before graduation. So I knew Krycek was a mole, I knew he had been sent to betray you and Scully and I never said a word." 

Mulder let Skinner's words wash over him without comment. What was there to say? Water under the bridge was water under the bridge; some of the water was sweet and clean and clear and some was filthy and dirty and diseased, but it was all water. He put his hand on the door handle, "I have no absolution for you," Mulder said, tired to death. "It was a spider web of unbelievable complexity that went on growing for decades unstopped and unstoppable. We all did what we had to do; all of us Skinner, including Alex Krycek, and a few of us have lived to remember it." Mulder said and got out of the car. Before he closed the door he said, "Do you really need to hang his head on your wall to call the thing done?" 

Mulder closed the door quietly and walked away. He reached the elevator to the upper floors before he heard Skinner start his car and back out of his parking spot. 

By the fifth week, Krycek's calls became more and more sparse and when Mulder, lonely in the night, called him, it was to get a recording that the phone was out of service. Mulder began to worry what Krycek was up to. He made himself stay calm and not jump to conclusions. The Justice Committee said they were in touch with Krycek, so maybe the Justice Committee had sent Krycek on an assignment to pass the time and bring them more kudos or for him to die trying and simplify things. 

He kept his cell phone charged and with him every moment, even when he was with Will or taking a shower. He didn't want to miss a call. He used his office phone and the land line at home to keep up a constant barrage of inquiries with the Justice Committee. Six weeks and four days had passed when Skinner called him up to his office. Mulder was sweating by the time he reached the door and was plunged into iciness when he saw Scully was there too. 

"Bad new?" He croaked. 

Scully's mouth was set in a prim line and Skinner was rubbing his nose where his glasses made indentations, he tossed a document at Mulder, it was stamped `Confidential' and addressed to Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Mulder read the report. It was about a John Artzen, presumed to be an American citizen who had provided information previously to the FBI and the Justice Committee, it seemed, had gone on a rampage at a pharmaceutical company's research lab in Camden, New Jersey. By the time this one armed, one man army had finished, the lab was in flames and the cops found all fourteen weekend shift employees hog tied by a fence outside, in the rain and scared. Only John Artzen and the laboratory director were missing and their bodies were not found in the ashes. Neither Artzen nor the director had been seen since that time. 

Mulder put the report down on the table, "Do you know where he is?" 

"No," Skinner replied, "I have no information that leads me to believe this was a sanctioned hit by the Justice Committee, although it sounds a lot like what was done in the past by them." 

"The lab was cleared, Mulder." Scully spat out. "I cleared it myself; they made multivitamins and dietary mineral supplements. That is all they did, there were no hidden labs, no underground secret rooms and no prisoners or aliens hidden anywhere nearby and nothing to indicate that there ever was any of that in that place." 

Mulder closed his eyes and remembered he had been to Camden, several labs in Camden, during the final cleanup. It was what had worked best for the conspirators; a seemingly middle class, middle of the road facility, employing second generation family members and cutting back on their retirement packages. Nothing unusual, nothing exciting, a typical boring place among thousands of other such places across New Jersey and the rest of the eastern seaboard. Very carefully Mulder said, "Maybe you missed something." 

"I did not miss anything," Scully stated. 

"Something must have been overlooked or Krycek wouldn't have raided the place and he certainly wouldn't have taken the director." He turned to Skinner, "Does the Justice Committee have him?" 

Skinner smiled and it wasn't pretty, "I begin to think the Committee has left me out of the loop on more than one occasion." He looked at his nails, "I cannot authorize an investigation, you understand?" 

Mulder smiled grimly, "Crystal," He said. 

"Skinner!" Scully exclaimed, having been confidently under the impression that Skinner had been about to read Mulder the riot act and call for Krycek's arrest. 

"Agent Scully," Skinner said in his most dampening voice. "Whatever went on there, however Krycek was involved, are things I need to know. If he was not sent there, I can see no viable reason for his actions." 

"He's a killer, a thief, my God, what does it take? You killed him once knowing those exact things, and now you're changing your mind?" Scully said exasperatingly. 

"I am merely asking questions," Skinner said imperturbably, cloaking himself in all the pomp of his rank. 

Scully stood and the two men had the impression that if she could, she would have stamped her foot and yelled. Instead, she said in a lethal tone, "I think it is time for me to resign from the FBI." It was her trump card, but neither man rose to counter it. 

Into the silence, she unhooked her holster, fished in her pocket for her ID case and tossed both on the table. "The hell with you," She said and her mouth was filled with tears. 

Mulder took a half step towards her, but she waved him off, "I'd say fuck you Mulder, but I guess Krycek's already doing that isn't he." And she reached the door and closed it firmly behind her. 

Skinner put his head in his hands, but Mulder simply sat still, blinking his eyes. Into the silence, Mulder rose, "I have things to do, sir." He said and left the room. Walter Skinner said to the walls, "Maybe I should retire." But, he didn't sit around doing nothing for long; he sat up in his chair, picked up the phone and began to tiptoe into the higher echelons of the Justice Committee's hierarchy. He couldn't authorize an investigation, but he could certainly, discreetly, help it along. 

Chapter 5 

It's been a hard day's night, and I been working like a dog 

It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log 

But when I get home to you I'll find the things that you do 

Will make me feel alright 

You know I feel alright 

You know I feel alright... 

The Beatles 

Mulder started with the state police district office in Camden. They had been first on the scene and interviewed the employees. They let him see their reports without much posturing. They didn't know exactly what had been going on for the past couple of years, but a lot of people had disappeared and a lot of companies had changed hands. Being in law enforcement, they had heard rumors of a very highly placed court that was trying these people and allocating punishments. 

Mulder read each report for details about Krycek. He'd burst into a slow Saturday afternoon in the lab when only a small team of researches was on duty. Mulder smiled grimly when he read that they had been watching the Kentucky Derby on their computers instead of mixing chemicals. They'd gathered in the lunch room for the actual race and Krycek was able to capture all of them with a few well placed shots from his automatic rifle into the ceiling. The workers had caved in without any trouble and they put on the twisty plastic cuffs too. Krycek had taken the time to herd them all outside and attach them to the fence at the end of the parking lot, well away from the building before going back inside rounding up the director and setting the place on fire. None of it had been high tech; he'd used gasoline and matches. The chemicals stored in the facility had done the rest, creating explosions and toxic fumes. 

The employees had seen Krycek ushering their boss to Krycek's black SUV and he'd seemed fine, walking upright without any sign of injury. That's all they had to say, after the SUV exited the parking lot, they'd huddled in the rain trying to ward off fleas, ticks and mosquitoes from the nearby ditch at the back of the property. 

Mulder thanked the state police, agreeing that the employees were lucky, insect bites were better than bullets in the head any day of the week. 

Next, Mulder ran the SUV's license plate through the FBI data base. The Justice Committee hadn't tried to hide anything. The car was part of a leased fleet under the command of Robert Dalton, a GS15 in the Office of Transportation Management for the DOJ, Washington DC area. He called the Gunmen to see if they had any ideas on how to track the vehicle. They told him to bring lunch and they would see if they could help. 

Mulder stopped at the Five Guys Hamburger shop on the way and ordered double cheese burgers for all of them with everything on them. Armed with fragrant bags of greasy food, he arrived at the Gunmen's apartment. They all munched contentedly. The gunmen needed the code to the SUV's satellite positioning device and then they could see not only where the vehicle was, but where it had been for the past ten days. 

Mulder called his old friend Chuck at the FBI. Chuck was now the manager of a whole floor of techies, but he was willing to look into it for Mulder, no questions asked. By the time they'd balled up the last of the foil from the burgers and made coffee, Chuck called back with the information the Gunmen needed. Within moments, on a digital map, Mulder saw that the SUV Krycek had used or possibly, was still using, was parked in the North Lot at the Pentagon. He put down his coffee and left the Gunmen. 

Within the hour he was at the SUV, had broken in without setting off the alarm and was searching for signs of Alex Goddamn Krycek, undercover agent for the Justice Committee. He didn't find much except a receipt from a Thai Palace in Camden NJ, and recognized the take out order for Krycek's favorite dishes. At least he wasn't hungry, Mulder thought. He sat in the driver's seat, put the seat back and decided to take a nap until Krycek returned. The Pentagon, even if he could get in, was too vast to search. 

It was dark when Mulder woke. In his ear he heard a harsh whisper, "If I'd wanted, Mulder, you'd have been dead twenty times over by now." Since the whisper was concluded with a quick lick to his cheek, Mulder decided Krycek wasn't really pissed off that he'd been found. 

"If you'd told me what you were up to, I could have helped." He said fondly and twisted his head until their lips met. 

"Tsk, tsk," Krycek whispered between kisses, "The point of the exercise was to get Skinner on my side somehow so he would stop raising hell with the Justice Committee hardliners. If you'd been involved he would have more reason to want my head on a stick." 

"Can we go home now?" Mulder asked, need making him hoarse. 

"You don't like making out in the north parking lot of the Pentagon?" Krycek asked in return. 

Mulder laughed, "It was a fantasy I had on a field trip to our nation's capitol when I was in high school. But, I've grown up since then and have an apartment with a bed and everything." 

"There's a lot to be said for being a kid," Krycek murmured and climbed over Mulder until he lay on top of him, with the seat all the way down they were almost flat. 

Mulder laughed and Krycek wriggled suggestively and soon the car was relatively quiet, except for occasional gasps and moans. Somewhere in the heat of the moment, Krycek pushed the lever for the seat until it was furthest from the steering wheel, pulled at Mulder's pants until they were entirely off one leg and had unbuckled his own pants and pushed them out of the way. "Put your feet up on the dash," Krycek whispered, breathing hard. 

"Wha.." Said Mulder, but Krycek was already pulling one of his legs up. It was awkward, but neither of them cared and soon, Mulder was splayed, a foot on either side of Krycek and up on the dash board as if the car had been designed for this purpose. Krycek reached for his hip and angled him up so he was resting on the edge of the seat with his tailbone, ass available and already anticipating the burn and stretch of what was to come. 

Krycek didn't waste any time and once he was in, for a very brief moment, Mulder watched the reflection of Krycek's pale ass in the front windshield before he gave it up and closed his eyes and ran the race with his lover to a mind blowing climax in the front seat of a DOJ fleet vehicle in the parking lot of the Pentagon. 

They lay, panting and sticky and for a while, savoring being back together doing the delightful things they had both missed so much. 

Reluctantly Krycek peeled himself off Mulder and began wiping up. "Another week or so out in the cold and I think I can come home. Don't ask me what I am up to, you will get wind of it soon enough and you have to be able to say that you had no idea of it at all." 

"Who is the fucking agent around here?" Mulder asked testily, finding that being the bottom of the sex act didn't have as convenient of an aftermath in the car as it had in his apartment. 

Krycek smoothed his hair, using the side mirror for a reflection. He laughed, "At the present time, Mulder, I believe we are both hot as hell fucking agents." 

Mulder refused to laugh, but he said, "At the present time, Alex, I think you are out of your frigging mind and need to remember that you are dealing, well, fucking and dealing with Spooky Mulder, Super Special Secret Agent of the FBI and not one of the brainless minions the Smoker paired you up with." 

Krycek got out of the SUV and walked around to the driver's side and opened the door, "I don't believe I ever fucked one of the brainless minions, Mulder." 

Reluctantly, Mulder got out of the car, pulling his pants on and zipping them; tucking in his shirt. "Do what you have to do, but do it quick." Mulder said with some heat. 

"Believe me," Krycek said and smiled depreciatingly. It would be a long time before he would be comfortable asking people to believe him, especially Mulder. "I want this over. If Skinner were just some asshole in the way, I would use everything I have to steamroll over him. He has however, been good to you along the way and I want him to stay on your side and watch your back in the years to come. The world is still full of evil bastards of every stripe. And your job isn't ever going to safe." Mulder smiled cockily, "Aw," He said with an edge, "You're worried about me. How sweet. I never imagined you could be such a sentimental idiot. How about you watch out for yourself and come back alive with all your present parts still attached. That's what will make me happy." 

Krycek grinned and pulled Mulder in for a steaming kiss, "I'm so glad you like my `parts' Agent Mulder." He let Mulder go and stepped around him into the SUV. "I am disconnecting the GPS; don't try to find me again." 

He started the van and backed up. 

Mulder waved, but he was too far in the shadows for Krycek to see him grin or, when he went back to his car, turned on his bug monitor. He wasn't really about to let Krycek go off into the sunset without knowing where he was, the Gunmen had given him a very discreet bug, hardly bigger than a fly, but with a powerful signal. 

Mulder went home, he would keep track of Krycek as best he could and keep an innocent face toward Skinner. He was puzzled why Krycek seemed to care so much that he keep-up his status quo with Skinner and Scully. Next time they met, he would explain about Scully, but not about her comment. He woke late, it was a day off and he headed for Scully's apartment. He would have the whole afternoon with Will for the first time since Krycek reentered his life. 

Scully didn't speak to him, merely, handed Mulder Will's bag of clothes and his favorite blanket and a tote filled with toys. He always left the tote in the trunk of his car; he had plenty of games and toys for Will at his apartment already. She walked the child to the car, strapped him in the car-seat, checked the seat belt, closed the car door and stepped back. She smiled as they left and waved to Will. She'd managed to ignore Mulder completely. 

"Mom's as mad as a wet hen," Mulder crooned as he drove away. Will clucked like the chicken in his animal game and they both laughed. Mulder hoped he would always be able to get a laugh out of Will; he couldn't remember ever laughing with his dad once Samantha was gone. All his teenage hijinks brought reproof or punishments, not laughter or understanding. 

Inside his apartment, Will headed for the toy chest at the end of his bed. He picked his fire truck and police car and brought them to the living room. He put them on the floor, looked up at Mulder and said, "Joey? Gibby?" 

Mulder crouched to eye level, "They went home to go to work. They were just visiting us." 

Will's mouth turned down at the corner, "Play!" He said sharply. 

"After lunch," Mulder said and handed Will the sippy-cup he'd just filled with orange juice. He lifted Will onto a dining room chair with a telephone book on the seat. Will didn't want to sit in the high chair anymore and since Mulder didn't care what landed on the floor, it was fine by him. 

He served Will a grilled cheese sandwich and a cut up apple. He had the same for himself. They talked while they ate, and he marveled how many more words Will seemed to have every time they got together. 

Will told him about the dogs in the park. Will longed for a dog and could talk about them all day, but neither he nor Scully could fit one into their lives just yet. Maybe Scully would do it now that she quit the FBI, he thought. At least, Will would be happy with that outcome. 

They played together for an hour or so until Will, lying on the floor steering his fire engine, fell asleep in the middle of a run to save a cat in a tree. Mulder moved the toys out of the way and covered the boy with his blanket. He went to his computer and tracked his bug. Krycek was in New Jersey again, on the Turnpike and stuck in traffic. Mulder shot an Email off to Scully, asking her to reconsider her resignation and come back to the X Files. He had never tried to explain his attraction to Krycek, his angry obsession from previous years or his very different relationship recently, and he didn't do so now. Scully was his most intimate relationship, but it was quickly fading as he and Krycek talked more and more. He didn't try to explain his gender choice for sex either. He had no real explanation, to tell the truth, it was that Alex Krycek was Alex Krycek and, as far as Mulder knew, that explained everything. In his mind, Mulder didn't think he had been unfair to Scully emotionally. They had been lovers, true, but after so many years of abstinence, it had never been a happy or carefree affair. Their history was not a happy one either, for all they had been through together. He loved her and needed her, but she was not the life partner for him. He'd tried when he returned after his abduction and she had been wonderful and he had healed. But, it wasn't until then that he realized she was happier when she was healing him or minding him than she was as an equal and loving mate. 

As his fragility had faded and he regained both his strength and his acumen, she had been increasingly frustrated. He had assumed it was because of her pregnancy, which curtailed her time in the field. She had also become somewhat irrational, insisting the child she carried had not been meddled with or implanted by the Smoker or his team. Mulder had no doubt the baby was his, genetically. But he doubted they had conceived it in bed, during sex. He had tried to make her run the tests to prove paternity as well as the usual blood typing and other infant medical care. She refused and right after the birth he heard from Gibson, who had contacted him urgently; he went and when he came back, reestablished his own life as a single man and father. He knew she was angry with him, but he also believed she was relieved. 

During the actual silent war against the alien's planned invasion, they'd worked together with their usual efficiency and there had been no time for anything else. He'd taken every possible spare moment and shared them with Will. Will had thrived, but their personal relationship hadn't warmed and they became somewhat distant as Scully had become more and more impatient with him. She refused to understand that he had been traumatized from his torture on the alien ship, since she had denied her own experience, she ignored his and he had wanted to rail against what had happened to him, to scream and to cry, but he never got the chance. A wall grew between them that had nothing to do with how much he loved her, but had everything to do with him refusing to be attached in another cold relationship. His parents had been enough of that for a lifetime. 

So, he wrote to her and emphasized how much she was needed on the X Files and how much he would miss her if she wasn't there to counter his arguments. He didn't add that he had been right on all counts all along, but he thought it. 

He returned Will after dinner and Scully let him in to put the child to bed. She came and kissed Will, thanked him politely for spending time with Will, which he always countered with, "He's mine too." And, she showed him out the door, noisily locking the door after him. 

Suddenly, he was tired to death. He wanted his nights alone to end and Krycek home for good. He wanted to investigate weird and wonderful X Files with his young, exuberant team and he wanted fallout from the aliens and their human counterparts to be over, completely, totally, undeniably, over. 

Chapter 6 

When all is done, and my last word is said, 

and ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead," 

Let no one weep, for fear that I should know, 

And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so. 

When all is done and in the oozing clay, 

Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away, 

Pray not for me, for, after long despair, 

The quiet of the grave will be a prayer. 

For I have suffered loss and grievous pain, 

The hurts of hatred and the world's disdain, 

And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and pure, 

Had not the pow'r to ease them or to cure. 

When all is done, say not my day is o'er, 

And that thro' night I seek a dimmer shore: 

Say rather that my morn has just begun,-- 

Greet the dawn and not a setting sun, 

When all is done. 

**WHEN ALL IS DONE**

by: Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906) 

A week or so later, Skinner called Mulder to come to his office again. He was no less stern or on edge than he had been the last time, Scully, however, was not there. 

Mulder sat down and Skinner folded his hands. "You wrote a report about a flesh eating virus, which you and Scully contained, back in 1994." 

Mulder nodded, "I remember." He said. 

"At that time, Spender sat right here in my office and hounded you about fixing the situation." Mulder nodded again and felt the ghost of his old frustration rise again. "Spender's organization caused the thing to begin with, of course. But until this week, I did not realize it was part of their joint alien/human experiments." 

Mulder felt chills run down his spine. Was Skinner going to tell him Krycek wandered into a lab where that virus was uncontained? 

"Last Thursday, the largest butchering plant in Guatemala City, Guatemala, was blown up in the middle of the night. The skeleton crew of night watchmen was at the other side of the property chasing several wild dogs, which inexplicably made it through the fence and onto the grounds. It seems that the incinerator used for burning the animals slaughtered animals is only run on Fridays, the beasts were after a way inside to get at all of it." 

Mulder sat forward, but he waited for Skinner to go on. 

Skinner straightened his tie, "A passenger on the Wednesday flight from Newark to Guatemala bore the name of John Alexander and that was too much for me to ignore. I have seen the airport security tapes and it was Krycek. What was he doing there Mulder?" 

Mulder smiled grimly, but he couldn't resist answering, "I suppose he went there to blow up a slaughter house." 

"Why?" Skinner asked harshly. "I'd hoped all this bullshit was over." 

Mulder opened his eyes at that; Skinner almost never cursed. "Me too," Mulder replied. He hasn't told me anything other than he was doing some things the Justice Committee wanted tidied up. He hasn't been back." 

Skinner sighed, "Okay, okay, Krycek has redeemed a lot of his bad acts against you and I and the FBI. I grant him that. But, Mulder, who in the hell is keeping these side projects going? We've dug and dug and eliminated experiments and labs and erased them until the slate has been rubbed off the black board and still, there are more out there." 

Mulder got up and paced in the small space, his hands in his pockets and a frown on his face, "I don't know. All I can think is that there was a second tier bosses who managed to get enough power or money to keep things going. It's not hard to imagine these side projects as things terrorists would pay a fortune to have and control. I remember the `virus' and each victim can take a lot of people with them as well as spread it easily. It's not Ebola, but it's something like it. The panic an outbreak could cause would become the focus of international news for weeks, not to mention an ever widening circle of death. Scully managed to stop the spread of it back in '94, but she didn't cure it or anything. And, as you well know, all our samples disappeared, just like almost all the proof we gathered back then disappeared." 

Skinner sighed. "I've alerted the few people Homeland Security who know that there were unexplained things going on long before Desert Storm and 9-11. They've put the CDC on alert for all incoming air and sea traffic from South America. They can't keep it up forever, so as soon as you hear from Krycek, tell me what the hell went on." 

"Are you going to get over your death wish for Krycek?" Mulder asked baldly. 

Skinner took a turn getting up and staring out the window and away from Mulder, "What, er... what is going on Mulder? You've hated him for years and now you're roommates?" 

"He turns out to be all that I ever wanted. I didn't know; never thought about it either, but now that it's happening, I know. I'm sure, Skinner." 

Skinner sighed again, "He's as much of a mystery as any of the X Files. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this relationship isn't an X File." He turned around, "He's getting a full ride for his past from the Committee. I won't put up any more roadblocks. But if he ever sticks his nose into anything questionable again, I shoot him down without regret." 

"Fair enough," Mulder said, relieved. "He was a child of the project, just like Samantha and I were. He took another road to figure it out..." 

"Don't," Skinner said and held up a hand. "I don't want to hear about Krycek's lost soul or childhood traumas. He made a lot of bad decisions that hurt a lot of people. Nothing excuses that, Mulder, not then and not now. I'll stop blocking his pardon, but don't ask me to be friends." 

Mulder nodded; actually this was more than he'd hoped for, so he didn't push it. "I'll let you know as soon I find out anything." He left the office and hoped Skinner would let his vengeance for Krycek go for good." 

In the X File's office, now on the second floor in a large well-lit suite of rooms, he hunted down the original file on the old case. It brought back the immediacy of Scully's hours in peril with everyone dead or dying around her. They'd stayed in contact by phone as often as they could. She'd been so brave, he thought and committed to the scientific mysteries, he couldn't have done it without her. They'd ended up at a dead end, all evidence gone and all traces of the original package to the prison missing. But, it had been something that came from the jungle, or made to look that way. They'd never been able to ascertain which the real answer was. He'd been sure, after the fact, that the Smoker had engineered all of it, but Scully said, like the Ebola scares in 87', it was possible it had come from the jungle and disappeared back into the depths. 

He went into his private office, a smallish space with blinds on its large windows that looked out onto the X Files' bullpen area. He closed the door, lowered the blinds, took a handful of sharpened pencils and sat in his old chair. He leaned back, feet on his desk and contemplated the ceiling. What `was' Krycek doing? He was managing to be a rogue agent with scruples this time, making sure the innocent bystanders survived. Mulder searched his memory; there had never been another smidgeon of information on the South American flesh eating virus. There had been no files on it in the cache of documents recovered during the war from Spender's office or anywhere else. But, Mulder was beginning to see; Spender may not have had as many ducks in a row as he'd thought he'd had. The possibility of any number of dangerous projects still out there, being run by more Spender-wannabes made his blood run cold. And of course, Krycek was out there with no one at his back. Mulder aimed true and got three pencils to stick in the ceiling tiles. 

The week passed and then another week and Krycek was not back. Mulder wanted to hear something, anything, from anyone, just to know that the man was still alive. His phone and Email mocked him with silence. Scully had met with Skinner and the Deputy Director who'd replaced Kersh. She agreed to come back if her conditions were met. Mulder had been presented with a list of her demands and although they made him bite the inside of his cheek in anger, he agreed. He went to her apartment later that day and tried to talk to her about the future. Her anger and contempt were deep and she refused to listen. As he was about to leave she said, "I don't want Krycek around when you have Will with you." 

Mulder came to a halt and said in a low voice, "He's been pardoned, Scully. He is my companion and he and I will live together. I'm not going to make it conditional that he removes himself when I have my son at home with us." 

Scully stood up as tall as she was able, "I'll get a lawyer and make it a condition of a custody agreement." She threatened. 

Mulder stared at her. Suddenly, he saw things he never considered before, no matter how intransient she had been over the years. No, that wasn't quite true, he seen them in the very early part of their partnership, but once she had been abducted and her suffering had begun to add up, he'd dismissed any negative thoughts or feeling and made himself feel and stay grateful. Now, he stepped closer, for once, using his height and breadth to make his case, "We've been many things to one another over the years, important and personal things. Don't do this Scully; don't press the issue because you are blinded by your frustration with me and your hate for Krycek. We're almost to the end of our journey with regards to the conspiracy and the aliens and now is not the time to try and put limits on the rest of our lives. It's purely the luck of the angels that we've actually survived to get to the end. I will fight you on this demand, Scully. And, I will win no matter what you try and pull. Will is as much my son as he is yours, and I am in his life for as long as I breathe. I hope Krycek will in my life just as long." He closed his mouth, but he didn't retreat. 

Scully took a deep breath, "You would not win, Mulder. No judge in his right mind would grant you custody with a man like Krycek in your life and home. Not only because of his criminal history, but whether or not you've considered it, you and he are homosexuals. The courts have come a long way, but I seriously doubt they have come far enough to allow a child to be exposed to such a home for long periods when a mother and grandmother are willing, able and available." She tossed her head, "Certainly not after I explain how you've made such a bad decision at your age, it's not as if you've exhibited the most stable character anyway." 

Mulder clenched his hands, for the first time he wanted to grab Scully and shake her until she screamed. Bitch! He thought and didn't feel guilty for thinking it. "You might consider that what you term as unstable was actually being right for twenty years. I've been right about everything, Scully; not crazy, not unhinged or insane. All of my theories were proven true. Don't count on the Justice Committee blocking the whole alien presence as gospel either. Without saying what I was right about, they will testify that what I believed and fought for saved the world many times over. And don't count on testimony from Skinner where he would roll his eyes and say I was difficult. Unlike you, it seems, he wouldn't betray me." 

Scully set her mouth in a thin line. It made the groves around her mouth deeper and aged her by ten years. "We'll see, Mulder." She smiled nastily, "If Krycek actually comes back of course." 

She walked passed Mulder and opened the door, "Get out Mulder, you're not welcome here anymore. I'll drop off and pick up Will when he visits you from now on." 

Mulder went to the door, but taking a leaf from Krycek's bag of tricks; he leaned negligently on the door jam and crossed his arms. "Be very careful Scully." He said softly. 

She curled her lip, but she backed up a few steps and flushed. 

Mulder, knowing he'd made his point, went out the door and closed it very quietly behind him. He'd only taken a few steps when he heard a heavy object hit the door and smash into pieces. 

He'd burnt his bridges and strangely he wasn't afraid or panicked. If he hadn't been so needy back in the beginning, he would have never become so reliant on her, or familiar. Maybe they could have had a love affair without suffering more than interoffice reprimands from Skinner and actually been happy. Water under the bridge and he didn't mourn it. He felt lighter, perhaps because although Krycek wasn't there at the moment, their time together had already bolstered some confidence in being desired and loved without conditions. At a red light, Mulder laughed aloud and turned on WDCM on the radio; he rocked out to the heavy beat and coarse lyrics without bothering to close the window or keep the volume down. 

His land line was ringing when he opened the door and he shivered. Mulder picked up the phone gingerly, "Mulder," he said. 

"Mr. Mulder, I am Deputy Sheriff Leroy Malcolm of the New Mexico Sheriff's Western Division. I am sorry to inform you that Gibson Praise was found dead this morning in a ravine some seventeen miles from the New Mexico School for the Deaf, where he was employed. There are no tire tracks or vehicle, but it rained last night. At this time there is no confirmed indication of foul play. It looks like he took a step too far and fell into the ravine, breaking his neck. You were the only contact listed as next of kin on his employment forms." 

Mulder took a sharp breath and forgot to let it out. He was shocked to the core and for a moment, he couldn't come up with anything to say. Sheriff Malcolm waited patiently and Mulder could hear his slow breaths over the telephone line. Shakily, Mulder said, "Gibson had a club foot and couldn't have walked seventeen miles. He had to have been driven there." 

The Sheriff sighed, "I am aware of that Mr. Mulder and I assure you we are looking into it. It seems unlikely that he would have been driven there and left in the desert like that, but there is no indication that he was forced or pushed into the ravine." 

Mulder looked at his watch, it was almost eleven. "I'll catch the first plane out there in the morning. Do you mind if I bring some of my team with me? We are all qualified field agents in the Violent Crimes Unit of the FBI." 

"Hell no, Mr. Mulder, we're stretched to the breaking point as it is, you all are welcome, but don't get your hopes up. I have a very good team myself." 

"I believe you," Mulder said sadly. "I take care of all the arrangements once I'm there. Gibson lived there the longest and I'm sure he would his friends and colleagues to attend his burial." 

"Yes, sir," Sheriff Malcolm answered, "I sure am sorry for your loss. He was a well liked young man out here." 

Mulder hung up and hit the speed dial for Scully's number before he realized what he was doing and hung up. He stood and stared at the phone, the irony and sadness of the situation was overwhelming. "Who killed you Gibson?" Mulder asked the walls, but there was no answer. 

Chapter 7 

When I die and they lay me to rest 

Gonna go to the place that's the best 

When I lay me down to die 

Goin' up to the spirit in the sky 

Goin' up to the spirit in the sky 

That's where I'm gonna go when I die 

When I die and they lay me to rest 

Gonna go to the place that's the 

Artist: Norman Greenbaum 

Song: Spirit in the Sky 

Mulder called the two members of his team he trusted the most and he didn't try to go to sleep. He did a couple of loads of laundry in his tiny apartment sized machines and packed. He went online and booked a flight for three and sent the others an Email about the time of the flight. Although it was after one in the morning, he realized he would have to call Joey and let him know. He hated to do it; calls in the night never meant anything good had happened. He dialed Joey's number and waited for the younger man to pick up the phone, planning what he was going to say. 

When Mulder hung up the phone he felt drained and tired. Joey had been mostly silent after a fierce, automatic denial. He wanted to go to New Mexico immediately, but Mulder convinced him to wait until the funeral arrangements had been made. He promised to collect all of Gibson's things and hold them for Joey to look over. Mulder packed, made a fresh pot of coffee and sat on his old couch. He didn't turn on the TV or play a DVD. He sat in silence and wished, as he had done a million times since he was twelve, that he was someone else, anyone else, who didn't know the things he knew or had to do the things he did. 

At three twenty, the phone rang. "Mulder," He answered. 

"Look at his Emails," A voice whispered into Mulder's ears and hung up. 

Mulder abruptly, sat up. He looked around for spy holes or other ingress into his apartment. It took him a while for his blood to stop racing. "No, no," He muttered, and took a long shower. While he was drying himself, he faced the reality once and for all, the conspiracy and its loose ends were going to haunt him for along time to come, Justice Committee trials or no Justice Committee trials. Krycek come home, Mulder thought as he dressed. Come home. 

He spent the rest of the time before dawn hacking into Gibson's Email account and going through the messages one at a time. He didn't see anything suspicious until he stopped and got ready to go to the airport. He realized then that some of the messages had been odd. He rushed back to his computer, not wanting to be late to leave. There it was, he though and hit Print All for Gibson's collection of Emails filed in a folder called Cosmic Joke. 

He met his team members at Dulles when the sun was just rising over the horizon. They looked as tired as he felt and he remembered that they had been in the field for the last ten days without a day off. "Sorry," He said as he bought them coffee at the terminal's Starbucks. "Get some sleep on the plane." 

Coral, a tall blonde with two PhDs and a southern drawl, shook her head. "We're okay boss, don't sweat it." 

Mulder smiled a bit, his team treated him as if he were ninety instead of still in his prime. It always amused him. "I know," He answered, "You're all tireless, get some sleep anyway, this is going to be a bad one." 

They boarded the plane; it wasn't full; several rows of business travelers and a large family on its way to a vacation at a Dude Ranch. Mulder sat down and his companions sat across the aisle. He was glad to see they belted up and closed their eyes. He did the same and let the flight attendant's oft repeated instructions wash over him. They took off on time and due to the protected airspace around DC, they headed east for a short time, before turning west and heading out. The sunrise was glorious, but Mulder pulled his shade. The attendants started the round of coffee or tea almost at once. Mulder opted for orange juice and a couple of bags of nuts. 

After he tossed the garbage into the bag on the attendant's way back down the aisle, he reclined his chair and once more, shut his eyes. Drowsy, he failed to feel the person in the seat behind him lean close enough to whisper into his ear. He twitched when he felt warm breath, "Don't turn around." The voice said in a low husk. "I'll meet you in Gibson's quarters; lose your team for a few minutes when you get there." 

Mulder nodded, covered his mouth with his hand to mask his expression and smiled broadly. Maybe Alex Krycek was the better secret agent after all; he hadn't noticed the person behind him and he had been sure he would be able to sense if Krycek were anywhere nearby. Obviously not, but it was okay. Krycek was here and had his back. It was the best of all things and Mulder yawned, closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

There was absolutely no hint that the man sitting behind Mulder on the plane and who came off the plane last was anyone known or recognized by Mulder or his team. Mulder, his game face in place, ignored Krycek, who had on a minimum of a disguise, merely a short beard and tinted glasses, convincingly. They rented another SUV and piled in, Mulder driving of course, neither member of his team bothered to ask if they could take the wheel. 

Buoyed by Krycek's presence somewhere nearby, nonetheless Mulder felt an intense wash of pain and sorrow flow over him. Gibson had been so young and had lived a life bound on all sides, more so than even Mulder had lived. Mulder knew Gibson had been happiest with silent simple situations. The endless, mindless chatter of regular people pained him and the aliens had hurt him more, probing into his mind without welcome or permission. He and Mulder had gotten close during the weeks Mulder spent with him right after Will had been born. Gibson, wise for his age, had eased Mulder into accepting both his own possible genetic abnormalities as well as Will's. 

On that visit, Mulder remembered being bummed out and walking a long way into the desert for a place and some time alone. When he'd finally grown tired and thirsty, he regretted that he had not taken any precautions for a desert walk, he'd sat in the scant shade of a rock and found, to his surprise, that his backpack, into which he had only added a hat and some sunglasses, was supplied with a large bottle of water and several wrapped strips of jerky. It had touched something deep inside of him to know Gibson had cared enough to help him without being asked. They had become friends of a strange sort, but it had been a good thing for both of them. He mourned the loss of Gibson Praise, wishing he had really been able to protect him and keep him safe. In his heart, Mulder added Gibson to the list of Regrettable Losses. 

He told his team to explore the faculty offices to see if they had anything about whom or what had happened to Gibson. He took Gibson's private office, which was located at the back of the gym. He sat at the desk and spread the Emails in front of him. He found the common thread immediately. It wasn't even well hidden; all the Emails from StarFighter23 referenced a `supposed' fictional short story about genetically deformed beings that had landed on earth at a place named Spenderville. The Emails went back almost five years and in the last few, Gibson had agreed to meet StarFighter23 at the coordinates specified. Mulder looked it up and it was indeed where Gibson's body had been found. "Damn it, Gibson," Mulder said aloud, "Why did you go alone?" 

A very slight rustle of the door opening caught his attention; Krycek slipped in the door. Mulder could see he was all business. Nonetheless, he bumped shoulders with Mulder and looked at the papers on the desk. "It's hard to believe he was fooled by this." Krycek said in a low voice. He shook his head sadly, "Can you imagine, alone in the desert with whoever this is and knowing he was there to kill him?" 

Mulder grunted, a lump in his throat. 

"I've traced these Emails to a server at All Fine Meat Suppliers. It's a firm of refrigerated semi-trailers. They deliver meat from several slaughterhouses in Kansas to east coast grocery store chains." 

"No shit," Mulder said dryly. "Imagine that Krycek. Slaughterhouses in Kansas, just like in Guatemala? Who knew killing innocent animals could attract such attention?" 

Krycek frowned at him and Mulder realized Krycek usually had a somber expression on his face now that he'd left his smirk in the past. "There was a man, Juan Garcia, a low level courier for Spender. He had a grudge, don't get me wrong, he was a bastard, but he hated Spender with all his heart. Back in 94' his entire village, family and most of his friends and neighbors died of an unknown, but fast spreading infection. Eventually, he realized he must have brought it home from contamination on a package he sent for Spender from South America to a prison in the US. He didn't know why he was immune and never figured it out. Somehow, he found out about Gibson and figured he would know about alien viruses. As you can see from the Emails, he was biding his time. With Spender around, it was impossible for him to hide a trip to New Mexico. Once Spender was dead, the Justice Committee cut off his other sources of contact from conspiracy days." 

Krycek rubbed his left shoulder and sat down, he looked defeated. "I was too late," He said. "By the time I got to Guatemala, he'd already taken some kind of poison. He had these Emails on his monitor when I found him in his office, along with used round trip tickets to Albuquerque. I got him to a clinic, but it was too late and he died without telling me anything. Just to be safe, in case his vengeance included the whole slaughterhouse, I went back and made sure it went up in smoke." 

Mulder stared at Krycek wondering if all along Krycek had only killed when it was necessary and not out some kind of bloodlust or psychopathic flaw. "Do you suppose he got his answers and if he did, why kill Gibson?" 

Krycek picked up Gibson's Game-Boy, "He lost his entire family and held on to the hate for a decade. I'd say he was going to kill anyone attached to the project, no matter how distant the connection." 

Mulder stacked the Emails neatly and folded them in half. "I have to arrange a funeral." He muttered. 

Krycek roughly grabbed Mulder and hugged him for several silent minutes. "I'll be around." Krycek said. 

Mulder raised sad eyes and touched Krycek's face tenderly, "See that you are." He said, and left the room. 

Krycek dumped the Game-Boy into the trash can and followed Mulder out of the room. 

Chapter 8 

I just want to celebrate another day of livin' 

I just want to celebrate another day of life 

I put my faith in the people 

But the people let me down 

So I turned the other way 

And I carry on, anyhow 

That's why I'm telling you 

I just want to celebrate, yeah, yeah 

I just want to celebrate, yeah, yeah 

Another day of living, 

I just want to celebrate another day of life 

Artist: Rare Earth 

Song: I Just Want To Celebrate 

Mulder expected the arrangements to be tedious, but this was the desert and the custom, even after air conditioning was available, was to bury the body quickly. The local police and medical examiner released Gibson and on the same day, Mulder arranged for his funeral. Joey, Skinner, Scully and the population of the school for the deaf came to the graveside. One of the other young teachers signed the eulogy. Joey cried. Mulder and Krycek leaned against one another on the other side of the crowd from Skinner and Scully and they didn't cry, but looked solemn and tired. 

Mulder made arrangements with the local diner to serve free food and drink to the mourners and send him the bill. The children from the school, most of whom had never seen a funeral came up to Mulder, perhaps believing he was Gibson's father and hugged him silently, ate ice cream sundaes and went back to school. Mulder's team kept track of the food service, the guest book and blocking Mulder from questions posed by Skinner until all the mourners left the diner. 

On the large round booth in the back of the diner, Mulder, Krycek, Skinner, Scully, Joey and Mulder's team went over the crime. Mulder displayed the emails and Krycek briefly described his trip to Guatemala. Scully retold the story of the original case and glared at Krycek as if he had been the conspiracy member to run the test with the deadly virus. Krycek's face assumed the cold, bland face Mulder hated, but finally understood. 

"I think," Skinner said clearly, "Despite what we all hoped, we have to assume that there may be many other loose ends out there. I am not sure how to chase them down as I assumed that is what we had already done for the last two years, but I was obviously wrong. The Justice Committee had hoped to disband; I am going to suggest that they keep a small contingent ready and able to try cases that may come up in the future. I am sorry, sorry and shocked about what went on here." He looked at Krycek, "If there is anymore news or possible retaliations in progress, I hope I am informed immediately. I will make sure it is followed up." 

The group broke up; Skinner put the Emails, notes and the bills from the funeral in his briefcase and with Scully and Mulder's team in tow, headed for the airport. Joey had a later flight and he and Mulder and Krycek decided to go to the motel and toast Gibson with a few icy beers. 

Talking to Joey, Mulder was happy to learn Gibson had had some happiness in the usual ways of young men. There had been a couple of girlfriends and the usual sexual frustrations and angst; he preferred draught beer to bottled beer. Joey mellowed out fairly quickly; then again, he'd seen so much death in his short life. He had a fourth beer and thought he should get back to the airport, insisting on a cab so Mulder and Krycek wouldn't try to drive. "I know," Joey said half in jest, "The two of you are tough guys and can drive with a whole case of liquor in your gullets. I prefer you stay alive and out of jail, so I`ll take a cab." 

"He's making fun of us," Krycek drawled with a smile. 

"The younger generation thinks they know everything." Mulder replied, but he slapped Joey on the shoulder and handed him the phone. 

Waiting for the cab, Joey sat next to his brother and they leaned into one another while Mulder watched and felt a rare peace steal over him. It was right, he thought, seeing the two of them together. Joey was a slighter version of Krycek, but he was a good looking young man nevertheless. He had always thought of Samantha as perpetually a little girl, even after he met and was fooled by the clones. Seeing the brothers together made him wonder how he would have dealt with an adult Samantha, had she been returned to him. 

The cab arrived and Joey left. Krycek paced in the room. 

"What's up?" Mulder asked. 

"It's been a long time since I had any family. I'm not sure what the best thing to do for Joey is." 

Mulder took a final swig of beer and tossed the bottle into the trashcan. "He's pretty settled, he has a job and a life. I think you should be there for him when he needs it, you know, do some of the normal things; holidays, birthdays, weekly calls. You have to get to know each other too." 

Krycek grinned, "And us?" He asked, coming closer. "Do we do holidays and birthdays and anniversaries too?" 

Mulder lay on the bed, "Anniversaries are a must, you understand? Like ten years and twenty years and so on." 

Krycek collapsed next to Mulder, his arm over his face. "I hope so. I really hope so." 

Mulder rolled on top of Krycek, pushing his arm away from his face. "Oh, we will. We deserve it and it's worth fighting for, no matter who approves or not." He kissed Krycek, knowing the man's unexpectedly soft lips were something he would treasure forever. 

"It'll take some getting used to," Krycek said and nudged Mulder with his groin. 

Mulder laughed, "Oh, we're going to practice a lot, never doubt that." 

"I'm already perfect," Krycek said. 

And I've been to Carnegie Hall," Mulder said with a kiss between each word, "But, we will practice anyway." 

They began to make love, something that would never be taken for granted, they both swore silently. Naked, sweat gleaming on his chest, Krycek took a deep breath to keep a sob at bay. Immediately Mulder pulled back, "What?" He asked softly. Krycek shook his head and would have covered his face again, only Mulder held his arm down. "What?" Mulder demanded. 

Krycek stared at the ceiling, "So many deaths," He said brokenly. "My parents, Joey gone missing, and so many others. And always alone, I've always been alone." 

"Oh Alex," Mulder buried his head in Krycek's neck. "Me too," He said simply. 

They hugged until passion rose and obliterated everything else and they were alive and it was a celebration over death and sorrow, and each of them knew they never wanted to face whatever sorrow was in the future alone ever again. 

No one called, no one interrupted them and they stayed in the crummy motel on the outskirts of Albuquerque and practiced and they talked. "Will you come live with me?" Mulder asked. "The apartment's big enough, but we can get something else if you want." 

Krycek chuckled, "Well, my life has been a series of opposites between hovels and the Ritz. Your apartment is more than good, its fine. I don't have much stuff, a couple of boxes in storage, but I didn't go antiquing along the way, you know?" 

"Will wants a dog," Mulder said baldly, as if this level of domestication would scare Krycek away. 

"Always wanted a dog," Krycek answered and leaned in for a kiss. "Not a pit bull," Krycek went on laughing, "And definitely not one of those yappy lap dogs, a nice lab or something with no heritage papers." 

"Okay," Mulder said, "We'll take the kid to the pound." 

Seriously, Krycek asked, "Will there be trouble with Scully? She probably doesn't want me anywhere near the kid." 

"Well, no, she doesn't," Mulder said wryly. "But, he's my kid too and she'll have to live with it. I'm not giving up my son and she already knows I'll fight her." 

Krycek shook his head, the world had gone and broke it's rotation around the sun and pigs were flying. Fox William Mulder wanted him, forgave him and possibly, loved him. 

"You really think this is gonna work?" He asked gesturing to where their hands were nestled in one another. 

Mulder nodded and grinned, "Someday Alex, I'm going to write a memoir and call it Spooky Mulder Lived the Ultimate X File. It'll be a best seller; I'll be rich and tell Oprah where to stick it." 

Krycek laughed and this time, it was a young laugh, the laugh of a man who had a clear conscience and someone to share it with. Mulder's grin grew and he leaned back against the pillows and said, "Let's make it happen, Alex. We've done every other impossible thing, we can do this too. 

Krycek, showing his agreement, ran his hand down Mulder's bare chest and tweaked the soft hair that grew around his navel. "I wouldn't lay money against us." He said and they kissed again, rolled around on the ratty motel bed and generally behaved as if they had just discovered love and sex and all that goes with it, and maybe, Krycek thought as his dick got hard for an unprecedented fourth time, they had. 

Chapter 9 

I fly a starship across the Universe divide 

And when I reach the other side 

I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can 

Perhaps I may become a highwayman again 

Or I may simply be a single drop of rain 

But I will remain 

And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again.. 

Lyrics attributed to several artists 

Best performance ever, Johnny Cash etal, The Highwayman 

In the beginning, there was the newness of it all; companionship, long walks and talks about everything they'd never said before. Some of it was simple; movies, music, sports and favorite foods. Mulder kept his study with the old couch, TV and DVD player for himself and Krycek fixed up a corner of the living room, unlike Mulder, he listened to music while he did research on the net and made endless phone calls to keep an eye on wannabe power mongers, mad scientists and any remaining scraps of alien influence. He turned everything he found over to Mulder who routed it to Skinner. When there was enough to go make an arrest or to covertly put something or other out of commission, Skinner merely waited for Krycek to get in the back seat with Mulder. Scully didn't go with them often. Her hatred was unabated and she had a hard time ignoring Krycek, especially as his plans of attack were well planned, bold and effective in a way that she and Mulder alone, had never operated. That the plans were all within the law and took into account ensuring the least number of causalities, only frustrated her all the more. 

Skinner couldn't be said to mellow, but he was more pragmatic and deigned to unbend enough to invite Krycek into his office to instruct various teams from Violent Crimes or Organized Crimes on the plans for the next operation. And, there was always another operation. The spider web the conspiracy left behind was as opaque as ever, sending tendrils into other realms of crime, money laundering and weapon's dealings. 

Within the first six months, the assistant director of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, asked Krycek if he would consider returning to government service. That night, he and Mulder went out, got drunk, smoked stogies and shot up signs on the beltway, just for the hell of it; just because they could. The next Monday, Krycek respectfully refused the offer. Skinner, stuck between a rock and a hard place when it came to Krycek's growing reputation within various secret keeping government departments, offered Krycek a position as a consultant to the FBI's continuing investigations into the Justice Committee's secret operations. Krycek agreed and shook Skinner's hand with nary a smirk or smile. 

It was after one of those secret operations that Krycek didn't come back to base. Mulder, with typical distain for anyone else being careful enough to handle the investigation and with all of his old impatience at hand, ditched his team and Skinner. He went out into the night to find Krycek and bring him home. Not being a praying man, the litany that went from his heart to his lips and hopefully to God's ear, was surprising in its deep reverence and hope. 

Mulder knew all about the operation; he'd been in on the planning and had expected to go on it too. An exciting X File had come up, however and since it was one that touched on possible demonic worshipping, which the public was always afraid would be real. Mulder had to go with his team to investigate and show that top agents were paying attention. It had been almost a real case. This time it wasn't a bunch of kids listening to loud music, doing ecstasy and cutting the heads off chickens. Instead, it was eerily like a former case in which a born again Christian pastor had set up in the midst of the Bible-Belt to work his evil. He had been the devil, Mulder was sure of it, him and his snakes, but that didn't mean there was only one devil around setting up shop. There were no trappings of religiosity to cover this one; instead, it was set amid the surreal background of a state fair and carnival, one of the first of the season in Texas, where it was already hot and dry. 

Scully, along for this one, was also struck by the similarities to several other cases and made sure the team stayed nearby with night vision lenses on their cameras and plenty of batteries on hand. They conferred each afternoon while the Big Tent was inactive between shows. Scully lightened up enough to laugh at the newer team member's shock and awe over those old cases and to share, if only briefly, a feeling of solidarity with Mulder once more. 

Then, the call had come; Alex Krycek had not returned with the other agents, and all they'd found was a bloody shirt with the larger seam on the left arm, to accommodate Krycek's new prosthetic arm, ripped asunder. Mulder had pushed and harangued the board of the state fair to let him allow his team to do a forensic accounting of the money associated with the fair and they had found, as Mulder expected they would, an amount totaling over $300,000.00 in embezzled funds. Following the money trail back to the board member's car dealership, they had also found his basement chock full of demonic symbols and various arms and poisons and hallucinogenic drugs. The symbols and ritual objects had been purchased over the internet and the drugs from a Mexican border town. The man collapsed when he was arrested, and his wife and children moved away before he was arraigned, taking his bank account balance with them. 

Case over, Mulder was on the next plane already wondering if tracking the other operation was possible or if the scent was already cold. As his karma demanded from him, Mulder ended up on a desolate mountainside in Colorado. Granted, it wasn't Virginia, the mountain was taller, barer and impossible to ascend in a car, but it was as lonesome and hopeless as Skyland Mountain had been almost a decade earlier. Now, like then, Mulder stared at the stars and knew the price he'd paid had been too high. Now as then, the sky had no answer and the stars winked at him without knowing or caring about his suffering and loss. 

Mulder gathered his coat more closely around him and sat on the roots of a tree older by a couple of hundred years than his own lifespan, yet, not having a speck of age on the stars. It was cold and dark and damp and he felt older than the universe itself. He went over the case one more time. The mission had been to burn down another warehouse. This time it had nothing to do with South American viruses, but a small set up of technology which had nothing to do with what man had invented. How one of the alien laser drills had come to be in the place was an unanswered question, but Mulder shuddered when he saw the picture of it, having writhed under its beam for more hours than he wanted to recall. It seemed, and Krycek had discovered this fact; alien technology was vulnerable only to exceedingly high temperatures. Whatever it was made of had properties that were impervious to human intervention. Strangely, it wasn't nuclear heat or radiation; simple two thousand degree fire did it. When the fire died down the technology was always gone. All they knew for sure was that if it actually melted, it melted complete away, leaving no trace. The arson experts from the FBI, who'd been assigned to the Justice Committee, enjoyed setting those fires way too much because they got to use accelerants which were banned for being too dangerous. Indeed, the warehouse was gone, the technology was gone and Krycek had last been seen in the light of the fire as everyone ran for their escape vehicles. But, he'd never reached the one Skinner had brought them in. Instead, hours later, while the warehouse smoldered to its final heap of ashes, Krycek's bloody shirt had been found, sans Krycek. 

No one had seen anything, and the shirt wasn't burned, wasn't even singed. The big question was who could have grabbed Krycek in the midst of the inferno? Mulder stared at the stars. He knew, without a doubt, that it wasn't anything human which had made Krycek disappear. Why take him now? Mulder asked the night. It didn't answer him anymore than the stars answered him. 

He waited for dawn to make his way down the mountain. When he rose, he creaked like the branches of the old tree and his joints popped like the sound the pinecones made when they hit the ground. Wearily, he made it back to his car, grabbing the thermos of coffee he'd prepared, but forgot to take with him on his climb the night before. It wasn't hot, but it was sweet and the caffeine went to work right away. He got out of the car, peed into the bushes and relieved, at least physically, started the car. 

Mulder made two phone calls; the first to the Gunmen, who'd he'd asked to monitor the sky for anything that didn't belong there. They had no news and sounded as weary as Mulder felt. He told them to get some sleep and called Skinner. Skinner didn't sound any better than the Gunmen had, and he had as little news. Mulder didn't notice Skinner didn't bother to take him to task for ditching his team and going off alone. Like Mulder however, he talked carefully of possible alien involvement and said he would inform the Justice Committee, none of whom would be pleased to hear it and all of whom would alternately blame him or Krycek or Mulder for things being out of control again. "Not," Skinner said bitterly, "That anything had ever been under control to begin with." 

Mulder almost chuckled, it was too late and ironic, but being believed and acknowledged was still a small thrill. He said he would take the next plane back from the Denver airport and Skinner said he'd meet the plane at Dulles and they could try to come up with a plan. 

The plane ride was uneventful and Mulder was almost disappointed. There were no missing minutes, no toxic fumes and no clones of Samantha or little red haired boys to be found. He spent the last half hour waiting to land, wishing for one more encounter with a Jeremiah Smith, even a Bounty Hunter in the crowded rows of passengers would have been something. 

He met Skinner at the gate and they drove to an upscale bistro in Reston, a planned neighborhood development near the airport. They sat outside at a wrought iron table with a tricolor umbrella shielding them from the sun and ate goat cheese omelets and drank designer coffees. Neither the food nor the ambiance helped either man to feel better, but eating and drinking coffee was a way to make time pass by doing something other than twiddling their fingers or assessing blame. 

Suddenly, over the small sounds of sipping and forks on plates, Skinner said, "Why now?" And he looked startled and after a moment, angry with himself. 

At any other time, Mulder would have grinned at his boss for slipping up and sounding panicked, but not this time. "He wouldn't have gone willingly." Mulder said. "He has some of the same sort of extrasensory shit in his brain like I do, but he was also taken over by an alien for several days and it left him with a horror I didn't, couldn't understand until I was tortured on the ship." 

Skinner raised his brows, he tried to think when Krycek had been an alien host, but he couldn't place it in time. "When was this?" He asked. 

Mulder looked away, "When I found him in Hong Kong and the black oil spread from the French diver to his wife and she followed me there. Its mission was to find a ship, but all it could do was jump from person to person and search memories until it found someone who might know. The diver's wife had burst into Spender's New York office, which the alien had already seen in the diver's mind. Spender and company had funded the French team and the diver had been interviewed in New York prior to the dive. Spender was not there, but she, well it, jumped around until it understood that Spender was the one it wanted and somehow got the message that the way to Spender was to go to Hong Kong. It jumped into Krycek in the bathroom at the airport. I didn't know or suspect what had happened. He was silent on the plane and wary when we were heading to get the tape. That was about the same time you were shot by Cardinale. Spender sent goons to get Krycek, but they met the alien instead and got fried for their trouble. I ended up with you in the hospital with a concussion. Heaven knows why it spared me. Krycek was forced to go to Spender anyway and hand over the tape in exchange for the whereabouts of the ship." Mulder made a moue of distaste and drank a long sip of water. "Spender was prepared; he and I know now, my father, encountered evidence of black oil exposure when they interviewed the survivors of a nuclear sub that went missing during the war. Only a few men made it out, they had sacrificed the rest of the crew to stop the oil. Only, they hadn't really stopped it. So Spender, who had never informed the French expedition of the threat, knew what to expect. He sent Krycek to the missile silos in South Dakota and locked him in with the ship. He left Krycek to starve to death once the alien vacated him and was reabsorbed into his ship." 

Skinner listened with his jaw dropping open, "And Krycek didn't kill the bastard when he got out?" 

"No," Mulder answered seriously, "He hadn't found his brother yet. Spender was the key to that and no matter how much Krycek hated him, he needed him too." 

"It's too bad we can't bring him back and kill him again," Skinner said. 

"It's a particularly hard experience for Krycek to talk about. I think he was almost broken that time. What I do know is that Krycek can `feel' an alien when one is nearby. I really think he would have run into the fire rather than be taken again." 

"If they did come back or came out of hiding or whatever the hell they did, and took him. What would they need him for?" 

"I don't know," Mulder said sadly. "It's not as if they don't know that no more deals will be made, so he isn't a bartering chip." 

Skinner paid the bill for the meal and they headed back to the car. "Other than you," Skinner said as he started the car, "Krycek knows the most about the aliens, he'll think of something and get back or leave a message. After everything he's been through, he's not folding his tent and going off into the sunset without a fight." 

Mulder flashed a smile, "I know how much you hate the idea, Skinner. But I agree. Krycek will try very hard. He promised to spend the rest of his life with me and he didn't mean it to be limited to a few months." 

Skinner stared out the windshield, "For your sake I hope it will be a long lifetime." 

Mulder touched Skinner's shoulder, "Thanks," He said seriously. 

Skinner nodded and they inched their way through traffic back to DC and the FBI. 

Chapter 10 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 

Hamlet, by Shakespeare 

Mulder grew pale, unshaven and slightly manic. His team left him alone and poured over every scrap of information about Alex Krycek. Anne Marks, one of the medical forensic specialists assigned to the X Files on a rotating schedule asked Scully about Krycek one day as they shared a ride to Quantico. 

Scully bit her lip, but Anne noted she flushed; first red and then paled to white. "Alex Krycek is a trickster," Scully answered. "For all I know, I wouldn't put it past him to have used the fire as a cover to escape and become a gun runner or a drug lord in Argentina." 

"He and Mulder..." Anne began, but Scully cut her off. "You think a man like Krycek is capable of genuine love and commitment? Come on, Anne. I'm sure you studied all the times he betrayed Mulder and injured or killed people important to him and stood in the way of the truth." 

Anne sighed; she had a hard time understanding why Mulder had not become a nice nuclear family with Scully and their son. She was about to say so, when she realized it would be salt in Scully's wound. And, she had seen Alex Krycek and met him several times and knew why Mulder or just about anyone around would be willing to believe in a great deal to have him, especially in bed. "I think I'll reserve my judgment about Alex Krycek. He has been very helpful for the past year, maybe he's changed." 

Scully glared at her, but didn't say anything. 

At the same time Scully and Anne were driving south on I-95 toward Quantico and Mulder was obsessively going over every conversation with Krycek; the man himself knew nothing about it. He was strapped on a futuristic medical bench, medical equipment buzzing and whirring around him, injecting him from time to time and broadcasting readouts of his condition to a group of several aliens who, even among themselves, wore the human features of Jeremiah Smith. 

If he were awake, Krycek would have preferred to be unconscious or dead. He hated all the aliens, including the Smiths. He didn't trust them and he didn't want them anywhere near him, let alone actually touching him. But, he didn't know. Appearing as a Justice Committee Sentinel, one of the Smiths had knifed Krycek's left shoulder after tackling him in the light of the fire. He'd ripped the shirt off Krycek and stemmed the blood once Krycek had blacked out. The Smiths, who had evaded the eviction from Earth during the war, needed one more thing from Krycek before they left of their own accord. Knowing enough about humans in general and Krycek in specific, they knew they had to abduct him or he would never go with them. They couldn't be said to feel sorry for throwing Krycek's life into chaos, they weren't capable of that kind of emotion, but they had debated whether to inform Agent Mulder that Krycek was alive. Ultimately, they decided against it. The fewer the humans that knew they were still here, even if it was their favorite human, was best. 

They monitored Krycek and healed his arm; the new blood flow from the knife cut gave the Smiths the idea to use a laser, cut a new swath across the upper arm like a deli meat-slicer and stimulate new growth. This was their payment in advance to Krycek. 

Despite their powers, Krycek lost a lot of blood and went into shock. From the very center of his cortex, he suffered and screamed. He saw visions of a kind he had never imagined previously. He saw red oceans with black creatures, mouths open, chase him through the waves until he lost his breath and drowned in the bloody ocean. He saw the baby his mother was carrying when she was killed, at the bottom of the ocean, its half formed body writhing among black weeds. He saw Joey torn asunder, limb from limb and he couldn't swim fast enough to catch him and stop the pain. He saw his father run towards him on the sandy bottom, get slower and slower until he tripped and was taken under the sea and disappeared. And, he saw Mulder. Mulder was swimming laps in the one stream of clear blue-green water. His arms splashing sunlight and sparkles into the bloody depths, But, Mulder didn't stop and pull him into the clear green haven, instead, when Krycek grabbed Mulder's foot, it turned black and crumbled in his fingers. Krycek suffered and screamed in his unconscious mind and the Smiths had to lay hands on him and keep them there for hours to prevent his heart from stopping with the weight of the ocean and the horror and his blood loss. 

Eventually, Krycek woke up and while he did not remember the content of his terror, he felt the context and shuddered. The Smiths surrounded him, but they were no longer actually touching him. Their expressions were grave and blank at the same time and Krycek shuddered again. Oh, how he hated aliens, he thought. 

One Smith stepped forward, "Mr. Krycek, we apologize for taking you unawares." He waited; Krycek was silent. 

"In return for the favor we hope you will expedite for us, we have made it possible for your arm to regenerate. It will be entirely human, Mr. Krycek, made from your own DNA building blocks. It will take some time to become fully functional, we estimate approximately twenty-one to thirty days. You will have to exercise it and strengthen it, but it will be as much your body as it ever was. You will need to consume an additional two thousand to twenty-five hundred extra calories a day to make up for the energy your body will expend on the arm. Otherwise, you will suffer no further discomfort." 

Krycek deigned to roll his eyes, but remained silent. 

Smith said, "We remained behind to ensure the so-called super-soldier clones were put down. They were programmed to continue the destabilization and destruction of Earth. However, while we waited, you and Agent Mulder acted and the clones are gone." 

Krycek was silent. 

Mr. Smith tilted his head to side in a questioning posture and continued, "However, they managed to destroy our ship's propulsion system before you got to them and we need another one. We believe you know the whereabouts of another ship and we need you to tell us, possibly guide us there if necessary." 

Krycek closed his eyes; his personal alien hell was never going to end. He just knew it. Thanks to Old Smoky, who kept everything secret, thus spurring Krycek and his fellow lowlifes to search unendingly for the those secrets, he did indeed know where another ship was located. Unfortunately, it was in the hands of the Justice Committee, who, when it came to keeping secrets was not as well versed as Spender, but when it came to security, beat him hands down. 

The Smiths retreated, "We will allow you to rest and recover, Mr. Krycek, but not too long, every hour we stay on this planet, we are in more danger of being discovered and in the current climate, destroyed as quickly as possible." Before he closed the door on his way out Smith added, "As a rule, we don't kill humans, Mr. Krycek, we are essentially healers. But we intend to get the ship and we intend to leave alive." He closed the door softly. 

Krycek lay still, processing the threat. And it was a threat and they all knew it, pacifists or not. Unable to fend off exhaustion, he closed his eyes and hoped Mulder wasn't worrying too much. He refused to look at his arm or allow his mind to try and comprehend what Smith had said. Closing his eyes, however, brought him no relief. As soon as he tried to relax on the strange medical couch, he had bizarre images of a bloody sea and a bloody sundown, He told himself it was because his arm had been chopped off again, but he knew it for what it was; demons. 

They left him alone until, he thought, the following morning. He had no way of telling, because he was in a room with no windows, but it felt right. He hadn't slept much and knew he was as weak as a kitten. If he'd had a choice, he would choose to go back to City Hospital and wake up with an angry Mulder glowering down at him. Instead, he continued to ignore his left side and licked his lips, hoping for some ice water or ice chips and a magic carpet to get him the hell out of this place. 

Instead, a Smith appeared, checked the medical equipment and turned it off; automatically and painlessly the machines removed the urine catheter and saline drips and closed the site of his punctures. He approached Krycek and disregarded Krycek's instinctual flinch, to reach his left shoulder and place his hand on it. Krycek almost screamed, but there was no pain, only fear and disgust. "You are doing very well." The Smith said coolly and touched a button at the head of the couch. A moment later, he handed Krycek a small cup of ice chips. He handed it to Krycek's left hand, but Krycek reached across his body with his right and took the cup. The Smith went to the wall and pressed another button, a tray with a stack of clothing came out of the wall and he took the bundle and laid it on the foot of the couch. "The shower-room is there," Smith said, pointing to the far wall. "Clean up and we'll get you some food and plan the way to get to the ship." 

Krycek chomped his ice and ignored Smith. Smith left the room and after a few minutes, the lure of a hot shower and clothes, instead of merely the blood stained sheet which covered him, proved too hard to resist and Krycek rose, foundered until he got his balance and went into the bathroom. 

He took a long shower, soaping and massaging his dick to get the feel of the catheter out of his system. He let the water run down his face and chest and rubbed soap under his arms and his neck and began to feel human again. He ignored his left arm until he was out of the shower and drying himself with a large towel. Then, a lifetime of repetitive motion came into play and he was using both hands to zigzag the towel over his shoulders and back, the way he'd done it a million times before Tunguska and wished he could a billion times since Tunguska. 

He sat on the toilet seat and sighed. He would have to get the Smiths a ship; otherwise he would never be free to return to Mulder. He wanted Mulder so badly that he thought his brain could telegraph Mulder a signal as clear as day. But Mulder didn't show up the whole time he was dressing or bust down the door when he was eating breakfast of come in, guns blazing, to the conference room where the Smiths were waiting for him to enunciate the plan to get the ship. 

"The ship," Krycek said clearly, "Is beneath twenty tons of granite in Tuxedo, New Hampshire. It was a mine before the turn of the last century and was worked out and left fallow. Some brilliant Army Corps of Engineers captain was assigned to the Justice Committee, he came up with the location. He'd grown up near the mine and always thought he could cause a rockslide if he had a few bulldozers and a couple of tanks. The committee gave him what he wanted as sure as shit, he buried the damn ship." 

Krycek smirked, "Unless you can get by the guards, form a chain gang and move the stones out one by one, I have no idea how you will get to the ship." 

The Smiths stared at him in their usual deadpan manner and Krycek sat down. He was tired again, but he was damned if he was going to say so. 

Chapter 11 

Tender handed grasp a nettle  
And it stings you for your pains;  
Grasp it like a man of mettle;  
And it soft as silk remains  
Aaron Hill, British Poet 1800's 

Krycek was escorted to a room, which appeared to be a copy of a Holiday Inn single room, circa 1970. The shagged carpets and drapes were pea green and the bedspread was the same green with obnoxious groupings of purple grapes throughout. There was no TV, phone or internet, but it had a well stocked mini-bar and a big basket full of small bags of various chips, candies and nuts. Krycek stood in front of the mirror and took off his shirt. He was symmetrical again and his arm felt impossibly light on his left side compared with the prosthetic. The arm was perfectly formed, but muscle free and somewhat flaccid and very pale. He raised his hand and held it above his head, within seconds he had to drop it from weariness and lack of control. But, damn, if it wasn't really an arm, his arm. 

All he wanted was to get away from the Smiths and find Mulder; he would appreciate the arm later. He prowled the room, looked at the blank wall behind the curtain where a window should be and paced some more. He tried the door, but it was locked and he tried yelling and knocking, but no one responded and he began to feel like he was in the silo again. Everything was very quiet and he could hear his own breathing. 

He lay down and fell asleep. He was betting his internal clock would wake him when it was time for a meal and maybe then, he could find a way out of here. 

He woke and smelled roast chicken, the kind his mother made on Sundays. He didn't want to open his eyes and destroy the illusion, but he was a grown man and those days were gone. A Smith was holding a tray of food and when he saw Krycek's eyes focus on him he set the tray on the small table. "Enjoy the meal Mr. Krycek. We've secured an airplane to take us to New Hampshire in two hour." 

"Look Smith," Krycek said quickly, "You don't need me anymore. You know where to find the ship and I can't dig it out for you, so how about letting me go now?" 

The Smith stared impassively at Krycek, "We don't need to dig it out; we will reach the propulsion system easily enough. You are going to be with us in case any other humans arrive. You will distract them long enough for us to get away." 

"How in hell am I supposed to do that?" Krycek asked impatiently. 

The Smith raised a single eyebrow, "It's your talent, isn't it? I believe Agent Mulder always referred to it as your capacity to spew horseshit." 

For a second he wanted to grin, that did sound exactly like Mulder. "If you think the Justice Committee or the FBI will hold fire because they see me there, you are mistaken. No person is important enough to delay their primary mission. Which, as you well know Smith, is eliminating the last of the aliens." 

Smith could have almost been seen to smile, he didn't, but he looked amused and Krycek felt a chill go down his spine. God, how he hated aliens. "We have full confidence in you, Mr. Krycek." Smith replied and left the room. 

The aroma of congealing chicken gravy made Krycek nauseous. 

He was hungry when they boarded the plane. He'd drunk the coffee and eaten the roll, but the actual food on the plate had not stirred his appetite. He sat back and closed his eyes on the flight, wondering if only going five hundred miles an hour seemed slow to the Smiths. At least he was sitting in first class. The Smiths, each with a different face on, still looked eerily alike, as if they were all inbred cousins or something. It was a private charter and the flight attendant was someone's sister or wife. Obviously bored, she offered one round of drinks and retired to her seat by the small kitchen at the rear of the plane and read a book. 

They landed at a private airstrip Krycek vaguely remembered from a trip with the Brit to this location years ago. He knew they'd had the ship for years before he became involved with them, maybe they knew all the time that it would be looked for one day. He didn't put anything past those bastards. It was entirely possible that none of them were dead and the last few years had been a fevered dream and he was going to wake up again with a blood soaked sweater and a missing arm or a big show to distract people from stopping the aliens and the conspiracy. If that were even remotely true, it only begged the question why they would want him here now. 

They walked at a quick pace over the terrain and Krycek stumbled from time to time, trying to acclimate to his new or rather, restored balance. They came to edge of a huge granite mine. It looked like a meteor had landed and blasted the earth into smithereens. The huge hole was partially filled with jagged rocks of granite, sand and here and there, hardy bushes which had sprung up in the last few years. There was no sight of a ship, hell, at the bottom of the hole there was no sight of earth or dirt either; just jagged bolder atop of jagged bolder for acres. 

The Smiths tossed him a climbing rope, but Krycek backed off shaking his head. "I can't hold on." He said. 

Another Smith came up with a harness. Krycek backed up some more. "No way, Smith if you all want to end up like crushed ice, that's up to you. I'll stay here and keep an eye out." 

"Nonsense," a Smith said, sounding exactly like an exasperated coach trying to get a player back on the court. "You will be entirely safe; Mr. Krycek and you will come with us." 

Krycek turned and started to run. Three Smiths caught up to him within a hundred yards. Two of them held him, while the third put him in the harness, cinched the buckles and dragged him back to the mine. He knew they were capable of tossing him over the side to swing into the rocks and die if he didn't stop them. "Wait, wait," He panted. 

The Smith waiting at the side of the mine put up a hand and the others stopped dragging him. "You first," the Smith said politely. 

Fucking aliens, Krycek said to himself as he descended the side of the hole. I hate every single fucking alien, he repeated as he centered his feet and bounded down another few feet. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

At last, they were al atop a particularly large, flat-topped piece of granite. It was cold, the granite had not yet warmed to the spring air above. One of the Smiths opened a pack and handed Krycek a large white flag. "Oh, right." He said sarcastically, "Just like in the movies, huh?" 

"It will delay them," A Smith said, no iota of humor present in his voice. Krycek glared at him and swung the flag from side to side, all it did was spread cold air around him. 

The Smiths gathered together at the edge of the rock and lowered, what looked like to Krycek, a thick silver fishing line. A few moments later it glowed blue and the Smiths seemed to get a little bit excited despite themselves. They reeled in the line and at the end of it was a small round glowing ball. It spread prisms of color over their faces and the rocks. Krycek felt a hot flash when the light passed over him. 

Within seconds, a huge mothership blocked the sun and the pit darkened. The glowing ball continued to spread colored lights as it floated up to the ship and disappeared into it. Two of the Smith came up to Krycek and chivvied him to the side of the pit, attached him to the harness again and pressed a button on a dial he was holding. Krycek went up the rope as if he were in an elevator and wondered why the hell they hadn't used this method to get down in the mine to begin with. 

On ground level once more, Krycek could see a fleet of black SUVs coming his way, and sending up plumes of dust behind them. The mothership was hovering and the SUVs stopped abruptly and men came out of them carrying heavy weapons and setting up bazookas in a perimeter around their cars. 

All activity stopped when the Smiths flew into the air in beams of sparkling light and the ship opened its underside to let them in. Krycek couldn't blame them, even after the war all that went with it, seeing a real spaceship remained an unusual sight. 

The ship closed its craw and began to vibrate. Krycek heard the command to "Lock and Load and then, Fire at Will, come from the men." Belatedly he waved the flag, but they began to shoot anyway. He hit the dirt, crawled behind a rock and cursed the fucking aliens again and again as shrapnel rained down on him with sharp bites of rock and sand. 

The ship rose majestically and Krycek hoped someone had brought a video camera to record it. Something strong in Krycek settled. He tried to figure out what it was as he was blasted by a very hot and strong updraft from the rising ship. 

He lay on the ground and began to smile. They were finally gone. He was sure of it although he didn't know precisely why or how he knew. 

The gunfire faded sporadically and interrupting the budding silence Krycek heard his name being called frenetically and got to his knees, waved the flag from behind the rock until all the shots ended and heard Mulder order everyone to step down. Krycek, waving the flag for all he was worth, stood up and saw Mulder running towards him. He dropped the flag and opened his arms and waited for Mulder. 

Chapter 12  
Get your motor runnin'  
Head out on the highway  
Lookin' for adventure  
And whatever comes our way  
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen  
Take the world in a love embrace  
Fire all of your guns at once  
And explode into space 

Like a true nature's child  
We were born, born to be wild  
We can climb so high  
I never wanna die  
Born to be wild  
Words and music by Mars Bonfire 

"Son of a bitch!" Mulder yelled as he got closer. "Don't you ever go off and get in the middle of a shootout again! You think you're Wyatt Earp or something?" He said as he faced Krycek and grabbed him. 

The meeting was rapturous, neither man paying the least attention to the armed army on the ridge. Deep into the first kiss, Mulder stiffened and slowly pushed Krycek away. 

Krycek had completely forgotten his arm in the heat of the kiss. 

"Oh, my God," Mulder breathed. He ran his hand up and down Krycek's left arm and stared at him, his eyes wide open as if he'd never seen a miracle before. 

Krycek threw back his head and laughed and laughed, grabbing Mulder close with his left arm and holding him tight. "They paid me with this." 

Mulder looked confused, but he shook it off, there would be time aplenty for questions and answers later, all the time in the world. Instead, he wrapped Krycek's right around him too and fell back into the kisses. 

"Gentlemen," The Justice Committee leader said. "Uh, Gentlemen," He said a little louder. "Agent Mulder!" He said very loudly and it finally penetrated Mulder's mind and he stopped kissing, sighed and stepped back. The Committeeman didn't apologize, "What went on here?" He asked commandingly. 

Mulder signaled Krycek with an open hand, "He can tell you." 

Krycek glared at him, but he straightened his shirt and spoke. "It seems a few of the Jeremiah Smith aliens had been in hiding in a heavily reinforced structure. They stayed to make sure the super-soldier clones were eliminated before they left. They were going to do it themselves, but we got there first. They grabbed me because they knew I had an idea where Spender had stashed one of their ships. I brought them here and they took the part they needed from the old ship and as you saw for yourself, they went into their ship and left." Krycek straightened up and planted his feet; he addressed Mulder, "For what it's worth, I think they are really all gone now." 

Mulder looked around at the mine and the cars on the ridge and into the sky. He breathed deeply and let his breath out in a gust, "I think you are right," He said. 

Skinner and Scully, who arrived after the whole thing was over, but got the information from the men as they passed through the crowd, came up to Mulder, Krycek and the Committeeman. Mulder who was so happy that their sour faces couldn't put a dent in it, said. "They're gone for good. These were the Smiths and they stayed behind as cleanup operations. It's all done, so they left." 

"Is that what Krycek told you?" Scully asked sardonically. Skinner put out a hand as if to stop her voice, but he dropped it and looked away when he couldn't stop her. 

Mulder stepped up into her space, "Yes, Scully, that's exactly what Alex told me. What's more, I believe him. I feel it too, like a mental stress has been lifted that I didn't know was there." 

Scully snorted, "Until the next time." She spat out. "I see he had them pay him in their coin." She gestured to his left arm. 

Mulder sighed, his jubilation fading with every dig she uttered. Surprisingly, Skinner spoke up, "I think you may well be right. It makes sense that the Smiths would make sure anything truly harmful to humanity was gone before they left. They firmly held the opinion that mankind was worth saving." 

Skinner stood solidly after his pronouncement, the Committeeman nodded and walked back to his men, Krycek put his arm around Mulder's shoulders and pulled him gently back to his side. 

Scully looked at the wall of large, satisfied men in front of her and her mouth turned down at the corners and she pulled herself up to her maximum height, "As I said, we'll see in time what is right." 

Krycek smiled at her, it was an open smile and guileless, but she didn't smile back. Krycek didn't seem to care if she continued to glare at him. "You've got it exactly correct Agent Scully. Time, we have all the time in the world to find out. Our time, human time," He turned to Skinner and offered a hand, Skinner shook it, a smile beginning to light his features too as he realized what Krycek was saying. 

"Put that on my gravestone Mulder," Skinner said and smiled, "Put `I lived in human time'" 

Mulder said with utmost gravity, "I will sir, I promise." 

"Don't get ahead of yourself Skinner," Krycek butted in, "wait until you've lived another fifty human years or so, then you can remind Mulder." 

"Sounds good to me," Mulder said with an impish smile, he looked at Krycek, "as long as we get the same deal." 

"I certainly hope so," Krycek replied. "What'd you say to blowing this pop-stand and heading out, cowboy?" 

"Ready when you are," Mulder said provocatively. 

"Oh," Krycek said laughingly, "I'm ready." 

"Skinner, Scully," Mulder said, as he and Krycek walked away, "See you at the office in a week or two. I'm taking some vacation time as of now." 

Scully grimaced, but the men did not see it. They were already in a world of their own and it was totally human. 

They went to Mulder's SUV of course; Krycek hadn't come in a car. Mulder insisted on driving. As so as they pealed out of the dusty area around the mine, setting off huge plumes behind them, Mulder turned down a lane between trees and more rocks. He parked the car behind several large rocks and shut off the engine. Facing Krycek, he grinned and said, "Tell me everything." 

Krycek laughed, "An X File really gets your gonads going, doesn't it?" 

Mulder grinned back, "You have no idea about my fantasy life when it comes to X Files and sex with weird partners." 

"You saying I'm weird?" Krycek asked with a mock pout. 

"Hell, you're the X File." Mulder said and lunged in for a kiss. 

Breathlessly, a few minutes later, Krycek panted, "We are not fucking in this car, Mulder. There are plenty of crummy motels with crummy beds just down the road." 

"Shucks," Mulder said, drawing lines with his nails up and down Krycek's baby soft left arm. "I wanted to do the dashboard thing again, with me on top this time." 

Krycek shook his head sadly, "No, no, you can't. You're an amateur, my friend and you have to pay car sex dues for a long time before you get to top in pretzel positions." 

Mulder lunged into Krycek, unfortunately making him smack the back of his head against the passenger window. He muttered, "Sorry," but kept up the attack until a laughing Krycek was beneath him on the seat with their feet extending out the driver's side door. 

Mulder tried to lift Krycek's ass and legs up enough to take off his pants, but Krycek resisted and laughed so hard he began to gasp for air. "Hey! Hey!" Krycek cried out when Mulder ripped his shirt, "I have to save my energy for the arm to grow back all the way." 

Mulder froze, stared at the bared soft white arm and let out a long held breath. He collapsed onto Krycek's chest. "Sorry," He said again with much more sincerity in his voice. "I wasn't thinking." 

Krycek brought both his arms up and around Mulder, they lay there, almost drowsing with the sun dappling down on them through the windshield and green leaves and the silence of the day marked only by birdsong. "Mulder," Krycek whispered with solemnity. 

"Alex?" Mulder whispered back. 

"It's high summer now, only a few months since you found me in the hospital." Krycek breathed and Mulder waited. "I had given up; only coming back to DC to die somewhere my body would be recognized. I even knew you would spit on it, but you would also see I was cremated and scatter the ashes to the wind just to make sure I was dead for good. I wanted to be dead for good and not sent in pieces to any old bastards still around somewhere so they could feed me to their pet alligators or something." Krycek audibly swallowed a lump in his throat and Mulder felt one in his throat too. 

"I haven't been able to love very many people," Krycek went on, his voice barely quavering, "Not with the life I was living. Needless to say, fewer than that has loved me. I didn't think about it much, I didn't dare. There was too much to be done and all of it was dangerous and ugly. So I became as numb as the clones, only I had to work at shutting off feelings and they were just made that way. I swear, sometimes I envied them." 

Mulder rubbed his face into Krycek's chest, wordlessly offering his sympathy and understanding. 

"But, you got to me the first time I saw a picture of you. I thought you were like a bird of prey, hunting endlessly for the best morsel of flesh; eyes clear and focused. I was captivated and intrigued. If they hadn't sent me to spy on you, I would have stalked you without permission anyway." 

Krycek chuckled, "You were such a pain in the ass, but Jesus; you were hot as hell too. I felt like a kid with a high school crush on the quarterback, only the game we were playing had much higher stakes and I didn't want to end up dead. Not then." He kissed the top of Mulder's head, "On that park bench, I was ready to die. I'd done everything I could to expose those assholes and find if Joey was alive. As the Committee came down on them and they mostly ate their guns, I felt it was over and there was nothing left for me to do. I mean, what is blood vengeance anyway? The living has it and the dead do not. My parents weren't going to rise from the dead and pat me on the back, Joey wasn't going to waltz off a ship and back into my life. I hoped you would walk through that park, Mulder. Oh, I hoped you would so I could see you one more time." 

Mulder wedged his face more deeply into Krycek's chest. 

"We're both nuts and weird and have no idea about what's normal, but we're going to be okay. We're going to make it and it won't have anything to do with which apartment we live in or how much Scully hates me, or if Will or Joey spend time with us, and I hope it will be a great deal of the time. And ultimately, it won't have anything to do with how much we suffered. We're going wipe the slate eventually and all that will be left is what we make between us. And, Mulder, I don't want to die for a long, long time, if I can spend it with you." 

Mulder cleared his throat and pushed up off Krycek to look down into his face. Mulder tried for a smart-ass grin, what Krycek saw was a tremulous smile. "If that's a proposal, I accept. Only you have to take a solemn vow to never go anywhere without me watching your back. No more solo missions, no matter how important you think it may be." 

Alex Krycek grinned and put his hands on Mulder's face, cupping his cheeks with his fingertips in his hair. "I Alexander Michael Krycek do solemnly swear," But he didn't get to finish because Mulder was kissing him. 

When Krycek had to pause to take a breath, Mulder said quietly into his ear, "You're sure I can't fuck you in the car?" 

And Krycek laughed. 

The REAL End 

  
 

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Series Name:   **Let Then Have It How They Will**  
Title:   **Let Them Have It How They Will Book 2**   
Author:  Flutesong   [email/website]   
Details:   **Series**  |  **R**  |  **136k**  |  **06/11/08**   
Pairings:  Mulder/Krycek   
Category:  Drama, Humor, Story, Romance, Relationship, RST, AU (Alternate Universe)   
  
  
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